3  1822023997091 


„« 


IVERSITY  OF  CALIFORN  A   SAN  DIEGO 


3  1822023997091 


SARATOGA. 


INDIAN  TALE  OF  FRONTIER  LIFE. 


A  TRUE  STORY  OF  1787. 


"  What,  she  thought,  would  be  the  anguish  and  despair  of  her  bereaved  father, 
so  near  at  hand,  and  yet  without  power  to  relieve  her,  when  he  should  learn  of 
her  disappearance  7  She  knew  herself  to  be  his  greatest  treasure  ;  and  she  felt 
herself  to  be  his  only  stay  on  earth.  Who  would  dare  to  disclose  to  him  the 
most  unhappy  fate  of  his  beloved  daughter?  Who  would  face  the  grief  and 
despair  which  would  be  manifested  at  the  first  annunciation  of  her  loss  ?  And 
when  the  first  burst  of  passionate  sorrow  should  have  passed  away,  what  would 
be  the  life— what  would  be  the  lot  of  that  poor,  companlonless  old  man  7  Who, 
for  the  future,  would  pay  him  those  little  caressing  attentions  which  habitual 
affection  had  rendered  necessary,  and  the  absence  of  which  must  continually 
revive  the  bitter  recollection  of  his  loss  7  What  hand  would  assist  his  feeble 
footsteps,  and  soothe  his  bed  of  sickness  7  And  what  gentle  heart,  with  cheerful 
encouragement,  would  lighten  his  journey,  as  he  travelled  down  the  dreary 
pathway  to  the  grave  7" — Page  166. 


T.  B.  PETERSON  AND  BROTHERS; 
306  'CHESTNUT  STREET. 


PREFACE. 


THE  general  characteristics  of  American  life  and  man 
ners  at  the  period  immediately  succeeding  the  Revolu 
tion,  have  been  often  and  well  portrayed.  But  every 
section  of  the  country  then  presented  special  local  pe 
culiarities,  arising  in  part  from  the  various  races  of  the 

s 

settlers,  partly  from  the  different  relations  in  which  they 
stood  to  the  Aborigines,  and  partly  from  the  character 
of  the  country  itself.  These  local  peculiarities  afford  an 
inexhaustible  field  for  the  historian  and  novelist. 

It  has  been  the  aim  of  the  author  of  the  following 
pages  to  present  a  picture  of  a  particular  time  and  place. 
Most  of  the  incidents  narrated  have  been  handed  down 
by  tradition  as  veritable  facts ;  and  the  principal  person 
ages  introduced  are  drawn  from  actual  prototypes.  And 
even  in  those  parts  which  are  more  purely  imaginary,  it 
is  believed  than  no  historical  probability  has  been  vio 
lated.  For  all  artistic  purposes,  whatever  might  be  true 
is  true ;  and  this  book  is  presented  to  the  public  as  a 
faithful,  though  of  course  an  incomplete,  picture  of" 
Saratoga  in  1787. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MM 

A  MBETIXQ  m  THB  WOODS, a 


CHAPTER  H. 
CEAZT  JAKE, 31 

CHAPTER  HI. 
THB  ABDUCTION, 4S 

CHAPTER  1Y. 
THE  SPBINGS  IK  1787, .54 

CHAPTER  V. 
THE  NIGHT-MARCH, .73 

CHAPTER  VL 

THE  TRAIL, >.      ••  ".  V  .      $fi 


CHAPTER  VH. 
THE  FLIGHT, ...      92 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

PAGB 

OLD  TIES  AND  NEW  FEELINGS  .......    287 


CHAPTER  XXVH. 

THE  LUNATIC'S  ESCAPE,    .       .       .       .       i  <     •       .       .297 

CHAPTER  XXVHI. 
ELECTIVE  AFFINITIES,       ........    305 

CHAPTER  XXTX. 
UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTERS,        .......    317 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
AN  ENTIRELY  NEW  PROGRAMME,      ......    329 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 
JOE'S  WIGWAM,         .........    346 

CHAPTER  XXXn. 
THE  WAR  PATH,       .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .    358 

CHAPTER  XXXm. 

PATE  OF  THE  LUNATIC,     .       .      /.<      .....    390 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
CONCLUSION,       .       .........    397 


SARATOGA. 


CHAPTER    I. 

A     MEETING     IN     THE     FOREST. 

ONE  summer  morning  in  the  year  1787,  a  party  of 
four  persons  were  traversing  the  forest,  near  the  spot 
where  now  stands  the  gay  watering-place  of  Saratoga. 
Two  of  the  party  were  young  women,  mounted  on  horse 
back.  Their  attendants,  who  were  on  foot,  consisted  of  a 
white  man  and  an  Indian,  or  rather  half-breed. 

"  How  soon  do  you  think  we  shall  come  to  the  rock, 
James?"  said  the  taller  of  the  two  horsewomen;  "it 
seems  to  me  that  we  have  been  riding  long  enough  to  be 
there  by  this  time." 

"  No,  no,  Miss  Marion,  not  quite  ;"  replied  the  man 
who  was  addressed;  "no  doubt  it  may  seem  a  long  way 
to  you,  who  are  not  used  to  it  ;  but,  Lord  bless  you  !  I 
know  every  foot  of  this  here  ground,  as  well  as  you  know 
the  road  to  church.  We  are  now  full  a  mile  to  the  south 
ward  of  the  spring  yet.  We  need  n't  hurry,  for  the  col 
onel  won't  be  able  to  jine  us  till  arter  we've  been  there 
some  time." 

"  Are  you  sure,"  said  the  fair  interlocutor,  "that  w< 


10  SARATOGA. 

are  in  the  right  way?  For,  to  me,  one  of  these  paths 
looks  just  like  another." 

"  Sure,  Miss  Marion !"  was  the  reply,  "  why  Indian 
Joe  here,  could  find  his  way  blindfold,  I'll  be  sworn. 
Besides,  you  can  see  the  light  in  the  east  shinin'  through 
the  tops  of  them  hemlocks,  so  you  may  be  sartain  we're 
not  turned  round,  and  that  our  heads  are  still  looking  to 
wards  Skeenesborough." 

"What  blindfold  mean,  you  say?"  asked  the  person 
designated  as  Indian  Joe,  who  now  joined  in  the  conver 
sation. 

"The  Lord  love  us,  miss!"  replied  the  other  man; 
"you  see  the  ignorance  of  them  savages.  Why,  Joe, 
where  was  you  edicated  ?  Blindfold  means  walking  with 
somethin'  tied  over  your  eyes,  all  jest  as  if  'twas  pitch 
dark  now — " 

His  further  explanatory  remarks,  on  that  head,  were 
cut  short  by  a  slight  exclamation  from  the  second  young 
lady.  Her  horse  was  standing  still,  while  she  was  point 
ing  with  her  riding- whip  at  some  object  by  the  side  of 
their  path.  Her  eyes  seemed  to  be  riveted  upon  this, 
whatever  it  was,  as  if  by  a  kind  of  fascination,  while  her 
cheek  was  slightly  blanched  with  the  fright  which  it 
caused.  Within  a  few  feet  of  her,  in  fact,  was  a  fallen 
tree,  now  old  and  decayed  ;  but  which  in  its  descent  had 
broken  off  a  yard  or  so  above  the  ground,  so  that,  as  it  lay, 
the  top  of  the  trunk  was  nearly  as  high  as  a  man's  head. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Lucile?  what  is  it  ?"  exclaimed 
her  companion,  observing  her  alarm,  and  approaching  her 
in  anxiety.  Lucile  made  no  reply,  but  continued  pointing 
at  the  object  which  fixed  her  attention,  apparently  unable 
to  do  more. 


A    MEETING    IN    THE    FOREST.  11 

"What's  got  into  the  gal?"  said  the  man  who  had 
been  addressed  as  James  :  "  don't  be  skeered,  Miss  Val- 
cour  ;  sit  still,  and  I'  11  see  what  it  is  in  a  jiffy." 

But,  in  the  mean  time,  the  Indian,  whom  nobody,  just 
then,  noticed,  had  taken  a  short  turn  toward  the  head  of 
the  prostrate  tree,  and  with  silent  but  rapid  steps,  was 
now  seen«  approaching  x  the  group,  walking  along  the 
elevated  trunk.  When  within  a  yard  or  so,  he  paused, 
making  a  quick  motion  of  his  hand  toward  Lucile,  as  if 
to  beckon  her  away.  But  she  either  did  not  understand 
the  sign,  or  was  unable  to  obey  it.  She  did  not  stir. 
"Have  a  care,  all  on  ye!"  said  James;  "have  a  care, 
for  it  may  be  a  painter  or  some  tarnal  thing  of  that 
kind.  You  jest  move  off,  miss,  while  Joe  and  I  takes 
charge  of  the  creetur.  What  is  it,  Joe  ?  Let'  s  know  at 
once." 

But  Joe  seemed  too  much  occupied  to  heed  what  his 
companion  said;  for,  casting  a  few  hasty  glances  around 
him  as  he  stood  balancing  himself  on  the  timber,  and 
apparently  not  discovering  what  he  sought,  he  slowly 
removed  his  rifle  from  the  hollow  of  his  left  arm,  where  it 
lay,  and  keeping  his  gaze  fixed  on  some  object  hitherto 
undiscoverable  to  all  but  him  and  Lucile,  he  steadily 
pointed  it  a  little  downward  and  fired.  There  was  a 
scrambling  among  the  bushes,  a  loud,  ferocious  snarl  was 
heard,  and  then  the  sound  of  rapidly  retreating  footsteps. 
The  Indian,  as  soon  as  he  fired,  had  bounded  backward  on 
the  log  where  he  stood,  loosing  his  hold  on  his  gun,  which 
was  caught  by  the  bushes  and  held  fast. 

"  That's  what  I  call  Indian  shootin',"  growled  James : 
"if  he'd  been  behind  a  stump  or  a  log,  now,  he  might 
have  done  it  Faugh!  Catamount!  you'll  never  wear 


12  SARATOGA. 

that  wolfs  tail  in  your  belt.  It 's  as  good  as  ten  dollars 
gone." 

"  What  is  it  you  say  about  a  wolf,  James  ?"  asked  the 
first  speaker ;  "  surely  you  do  not  mean  to  say  that  Lucile 
has  been  so  near  one  as  that1?" 

"Don't  I,  miss?  Ask  the  Indian,  then,  if  you  don't 
believe  me.  But  I  ought  to  know  the  critters  by  this 
time.  Joe,  how  on  arth  could  you  miss  him  ?  I  thought 
you'd  white  natur  enough  in  you  for  such  a  job  as  that." 

"  Too  much  talk  !"  said  the  savage,  with  some  ill-humor ; 
"you  big  brag  :  why  no  see  dat?"  he  added,  pointing  to 
a  large  limb,  which  had  intervened  between  him  and  the 
animal,  and  which  was  marked  with  the  charge  which  had 
been  fired  at  the  wolf. 

"That's  true,  for  once,"  said  James;  "this  time  I 
admit  there's  some  excuse  for  you,  specially  as  I  see  the 
leaves  below  are  covered  with  the  varmint's  blood." 

"  James,  I  think  you  are  too  rough  with  Joe,"  said  the 
fair  speaker  again ;  "  he  seems  to  have  saved  Lucile' s  life, 
and—" 

"Lucile's  life!"  exclaimed  the  man:  "No,  no,  my 
young  lady !  Who  ever  heard  of  a  wolf  attacking  folks 
in  broad  day-light  ?  'Taint  their  way.  Take  my  word 
for  it,  the  gentleman  was  as  glad  to  get  off,  as  you  to  see 
him  go.  'Taint  in  the  natur  of  them  critturs  to  set  on 
human  bein's,  onless  when  they  come  in  droves  like,  and 
find  a  man  alone.  I'll  be  bound  this  one  was  as  fright 
ened  as  Miss  Walcour  herself." 

"Ah!  Lucile,"  said  her  companion,  " how  frightened 
you  must  have  been !  How  did  you  come  to  see  it  ?  I'm 
sure  if  I  had  been  in  your  place  I  should  have  fainted 
away!" 


A    MEETING    IN    THE    FOREST.  13 

"No,"  said  Lucile,  who  had  now  recovered  from  her 
fright,  and  whose  spirits  revived  with  her  release  from 
danger,  "  I  do  not  think  you  would  have  fainted  away; 
but  you  would  have  run  away,  as  I  should  have  done  if  I 
had  thought  of  it.  But  I  never  saw  such  a  horrid  thing 
before,  and  it  is  no  wonder  I  was  startled." 

''Do  you  know,  Lucile,"  said  the  other,  "that  you 
will  be  quite  a  heroine  after  this  ?  But  James,  I  thought 
that  fellow  said  there  were  no  wild  animals  in  this  region?" 

"Lord!  miss,"  replied  the  man,  "do  you  call  a  wolf 
a  wild  animal  ?  why  he's  as  harmless  as  a  woodchuck, 
compared  with  some  that  used  to  be  in  these  woods.  How 
s' ever,  the  crittur's  bein'  here  shows  we  must  be  pretty 
well  on  our  journey ;  for  it 's  seldom  they  ventur'  far  from 
the  rocks  and  hills  in  daylight,  and  this  chap  must  have 
been  caught  out  late  a  gallivantin'.  What  do  you  say, 
Catamount?  Arn't  we  pretty  near  the  Rock  Spring  by 
this  time?" 

The  Indian  to  whom  this  question  was  addressed,  was, 
at  the  moment  occupied  in  disengaging  his  gun  from  its 
entanglement,  and  in  examining  whether  it  had  sustained 
any  injury.  After  some  delay,  he  replied  without  deign 
ing  to  turn  his  face  toward  his  questioner : 

"  What  I  tink,  you  say  ?     Indian  no  tink  ;  he  do." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  the  man,  "but  you  needn't  be 
huffy  about  what  I  said  about  your  shootin'.  I  mean, 
don't  this  wolf  bein'  here  show  we  must  be  near  the  eend 
of  our  journey?" 

"  You  know  how  shoot,"  replied  the  savage,  "  why  you 
no  see  path  clear,  eh  ?  Why  you  no  see  sky  out  dere  ? 
Big  tree  dere,  what  you  call  rock,  too,  plenty." 

"  The  redskin  seems  to  think,  miss,  that  the  mountain 


14  SARATOGA. 

is  dus  by,"  said  the  white  man,  turning  to  the  young 
ladies  under  his  charge.  "  I  used  to  be  this  away  often 
enough,  and  knew  every  deer  track  then.  Them  ledges 
he  speaks  on,  are  nigh  hand  to  the  Rock  Spring,  and  the 
hill  country  beyond  used  to  be  full  of  varmint.  But  I'm 
a  little  onsartain  now,  for  I  don't  think  I've  been  here 
since  Colonel  Mooer's  division  camped  up  in  Palmertown 
a  mile  or  so  above  these  springs,  soon  arter  the  battle  of 
Sarotogue." 

"  Well,  well !"  said  the  young  lady,  "  I  understand  all 
that,  but  when  once  you  begin  to  talk,  there  is  no  stop 
ping  you.  If  Joe,  now,  had  a  little  of  your  tongue,  and 
you  a  little  of  his  thought,  it  would  be  a  great  deal  better 
for  both  of  you." 

"Thought,  miss?"  said  the  man,  ^'why  thought  in  a 
savage  would  give  him  the  stomach-ache.  He  ain't  used 
to  it." 

"That  may  be,"  said  she,  interrupting  him;  "but  I 
have  known  your  talk  to  give  others  the  head-ache.  But, 
Lucile,  what  makes  you  so  silent  ?  Has  the  sight  of  the 
wolf  tied  your  tongue,  or  locked  up  all  your  smiles?" 

"No,  Marion,"  was  the  reply,  "but  you  know,  one  is 
naturally  a  little  stupid  after  a  fright ;  I  was  only  trying 
to  be  thankful  that  the  danger  was  not  very  great,  after 
all.  I  was  wondering  also,  why  the  dog,  who  went  ahead 
of  us  did  not  give  us  some  notice  of  the  presence  of  this 
Teature." 

"  I  can  tell,"  said  the  man,  still  pushing  himself  into 
th )  conversation. 

"  You  can  tell,"  said  Lucile,  turning  to  him ;  "  well, 
what  is  it  then?" 

"Why,  you  see.  miss,  the  dog  is  city  bred,  that's  all; 


A    MEETING    IN    THE    FOREST.  15 

he  may  be  a  very  good  dog  for  smelling  out  a  thief  who 
gets  into  your  hall ;  but  as  for  the  wild  varmint,  I  ventur 
to  say  that  he  never  so  much  as  put  eyes  on  one  yet." 

"  Well,  James,"  said  she,  "  let  that  be  as  it  may,  he's 
a  good  dog  in  his  way.  But  what  can  be  the  matter  with 
him  now  ?  I'm  sure  it  is  his  bark  I  hear  out  there  ahead." 

"  I  think,"  said  Marion,  "  we  must  be  coming  to  some 
house,  or  clearing  as  they  call  it ;  for  there  seems  to  be 
an  opening  among  the  trees  a  little  further  on.  James, 
what  is  it  we  are  coming  to,  there  where  you  see  the 
woods  lighting  up,  and  where  you  hear  the  dog  bark  ?" 

"I  kind  o'  think,"  said  the  man,  "that  we  must  be 
coming  to  some  bit  of  low  ground.  There  can't  be  no 
clearing  hereabouts,  and  I  remember  a  little  swamp  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  or  so  this  side  of  the  Rock  Spring." 

All  now  moved  forward.  At  a  little  distance  they 
found  the  path  more  plainly  defined,  and  freer  from 
obstruction.  It  came  out  upon  the  south-western  edge  of 
a  small  piece  of  marshy  ground,  covered  with  a  thick 
growth  of  alder  and  tamarack.  The  upland  about  it  was 
dry  and  sandy,  and  along  its  margin  ran  a  footpath,  into 
which  our  party  passed  from  that  which  led  away  to  the 
south.  They  followed  the  path  along  the  western  side  of 
the  swale  which  by  a  slight  descent  conducted  them  down 
to  a  small  rivulet  that  emptied  into  it. 

At  the  point  where  they  struck  the  low  ground, 
they  had  found  the  dog  whose  bark  had  attracted  their 
attention.  With  nose  to  the  ground,  he  was  making 
courses  up  and  down  along  the  trodden  track,  giving  a 
yelp  now  and  then,  as  if  he  was  on  the  scent  of  some 
object,  the  character  of  which  he  could  not  well  make  out. 
However,  he  uneasily  followed  the  travelers  down  to  tho 


16  SARATOGA. 

little  brook,  where  the  tired  horses  had  been  watered.  A 
few  rods  beyond  this,  where  the  ground  again  gradually 
ascended,  was  a  fine  clump  of  magnificent  beeches,  beneath 
which  the  ground  was  free  from  brush,  and  was  covered 
with  a  rich  green  sod.  The  beautiful  situation,  and  the 
vicinity  of  the  running  stream,  made  this  a  desirable 
halting-place.  By  this  tune  the  sun  had  so  far  risen  as 
to  shine  full  upon  the  spot.  The  sky  was  clear,  and  the 
morning  was  delightful. 

"What  can  be  the  matter  with  Prince,  Marion?"  said 
Lucile;  "he  stopped  at  the  creek  and  keeps  running  up 
and  down  the  path  whining  and  barking.  I  have  a  great 
mind  to  follow  him  and  see  where  he  will  go." 

On  this  same  morning  Arthur  Walcott  was  in  the 
forest  alone.  He  had  been  there  through  the  night. 
His  couch  and  his  covering  had  been  of  hemlock  boughs. 
He  is  standing  among  the  high  trees  on  the  eastern  side 
of  the  little  swamp.  The  light  of  the  morning  sun  comes 
down  warmly  through  the  open  branches.  He  is  gazing 
upon,  and  enjoying  the  scene.  Youth  and  health  are 
always  fond  of  things  pleasant — of  physical  comforts  and 
animal  delights.  He  basks  in  the  warm,  perfumed  air, 
and  the  cheerful  sunlight,  just  as  a  horse,  a  snake,  or  a 
vegetable  might  do.  And  yet,  in  character,  he  is  far 
above  the  ordinary  grade  of  even  the  human  animal. 
The  reader  will  find  out  in  what  respect,  as  we  go  on. 

He  is  of  medium  height,  perhaps  a  little  more,  and  is 
both  lightly  and  strongly  made.  His  shoulders  are  broad 
and  his  limbs  tapering.  His  forehead  is  high  and  wide ; 
his  eye,  large,  well-opened,  and  gray,  easily  dilating, 
brilliant  and  steady.  (We  describe  him  almost  zoologi 
cally.)  We  must  add  a  little  more,  however.  His  com- 


A    MEETING    IN    THE    FOREST.  17 

plexion  is  brown  by  exposure ;  and  his  bands  and  feet, 
though  the  first  are  well  tanned  and  the  last  are  encased  in 
tough  woodsman's  boots,  are  small  and  delicately  made, 
and  would  not  seem  to  belong  to  a  laboring  man,  or  one 
whose  occupation  was  either  humble  or  menial. 

His  countenance  is  composed  and  quiet,  though  its 
whole  expression  indicates  uncommon  resolution  and  firm 
ness  of  purpose.  It  is  thoughtful,  and  even,  to  some 
extent,  dignified.  His  dress  is  composed  mainly  of  coarse, 
strong,  gray,  woolen  cloth,  such  as  was  then  the  usual 
product  of  the  domestic  loom. 

At  the  moment  when  our  attention  is  called  to  him,  he 
was  carelessly,-3urveying  the  scene  around  him.  On  all 
sides  but  one  it  was  a  pine  forest.  The  trees,  for  the 
most  part,  were  large  and  tall,  and  had  but  little  under 
brush  between  them ;  but,  although  for  this  reason,  the 
view  between  their  trunks  was  tolerably  clear,  yet  it  was 
not  of  any  great  extent,  on  account  of  their  thickness  and 
proximity  to  each  other.  To  the  west  the  ground  fell 
away,  and  sunk  for  a  space,  into  the  little  marsh  of  which 
we  have  spoken. 

After  trying  what  further  views  he  might  obtain  from 
the  tops  of  hillocks,  and  of  fallen  trees,  and  finding  that 
he  gained  little  or  nothing  thereby,  our  forester,  in  order 
to  gain  a  more  distinct  notion  of  his  whereabouts,  deter 
mined  to  climb  up  among  the  branches  of  some  of  the 
taller  trees  standing  near  at  hand.  Being  light  of  foot, 
and  strong  of  arm,  the  task  was  an  easy  one.  So  de 
positing  his  gun,  his  pouch,  and  his  forest  tackle  upon 
the  ground,  he  swung  himself  readily  into  one  of  the 
neighboring  saplings;  arid  after  a  few  moments,  might 
have  been  seen  near  the  top  of  a  tall,  yellow  pine,  perched 
2 


18  SARATOGA. 

upon  a  limb,  like  a  look-out  upon  the  mast-head  of  a  ship 
at  sea.  The  view  before  and  around  him  was,  in  fact, 
like  a  wide  sea  of  forest  green.  To  the  north  and  the 
south  it  lay  level  and  uniform.  To  the  west  and  north- 

-  west,  at  the  distance  of  a  few  miles,  it  was  bounded  by  a 
low  range  of  wooded  hills ;  while  eastward  it  stretched 
away  for  many  a  league,  growing  hazy  in  the  distance, 
until  it  was  terminated  by  a  long  chain  of  misty  mount 
ains,  that  lifted  their  blue  and  billowy  tops  against  the 
silver  brightness  of  the  morning  sky. 

The  sun  shone  cheerfully,  though  with  slanting  rays, 
over  all  the  wide  expanse;  but  it  touched  no  visible 
house-tops,  sunk  down  into  no  rude  clearings,  and  bright 
ened  up  no  fields  of  waving  grain ;  for  that  whole  region 
was  a  wilderness.  The  chirp  of  the  squirrel,  or  the 
twitter  of  the  wild  birds,  could  be  heard  among  the 
leaves ;  but  no  other  sounds  broke  the  stillness.  On  one 
side,  and  in  one  particular  alone,  was  there  any  evidence 
of  the  vicinity  of  human  beings.  At  a  considerable  dis 
tance  to  the  southward  was  to  be  seen  a  thin  column  of 
smoke,  winding  lazily  up  into  the  air  above  the  trees. 

Unexpressive  and  indefinite  as  the  view  may  seem  to 
the  reader,  it  appeared  to  satisfy  the  young  man  who  was 
gazing  upon  it ;  for  after  a  few  hasty  glances,  he  descended 
from  his  perch  to  the  ground. 

Here,  as  the  day  was  now  beginning  to  advance,  he  pro 
ceeded  to  set  about  such  preparations  for  a  morning's  meal 

,  as  his  situation  admitted  of.  The  means  to  that  end,  it 
must  be  confessed,  appeared  meager  enough ;  but,  neverthe 
less,  he  seemed  in  no  wise  embarrassed  by  the  circumstance. 
Upon  a  limb  hard  by,  were  suspended  the  remains  of  a 
saddle  of  venison ;  from  which,  with  a  sheath-knife,  he 


A    MEETING    IN    THE    FOREST.  19 

soon  cut  a  few  slices ;  and,  after  striking  a  fire  among  the 
dry  leaves  by  aid  of  his  gun  flint,  he  was  soon  enabled  to 
effect  a  hasty  broil,  using  such  expedients  as  are  familiar 
to  hunters  in  like  situations. 

While  partaking  of  this  primitively  prepared  meal,  his 
attention  became,  from  time  to  time  attracted  by  slight 
sounds  that  faintly  struck  upon  his  ear.  They  seemed  to 
come  from  the  direction  of  a  foot  path,  which  wound 
around  the  eastern  and  southerly  side  of  the  alder  swamp ; 
and  he  was  led  to  the  conjecture  that  some  one  might  be 
advancing  along  it.  As  every  meeting  amid  those  soli 
tudes,  was  one  of  interest,  he  kept  from  time  to  time 
glancing  in  $ie  direction  in  which  any  new-comer  would 
be  likely  to  appear.  Very  soon  afterward  his  watchful 
ness  was  rewarded,  and  there  emerged  into  view,  the  tall, 
gray  form  of  a  hound,  that,  with  nose  to  the  earth,  came 
speeding  along  the  path,  directly  toward  where  the  young 
man  sat. 

The  latter  immediately  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  seized 
his  gun,  exclaiming  to  himself  as  he  did  so : 

"  As  I  live,  that  must  be  Mr.  Valcour's  dog  I  Prince  I 
Here!  Don't  you  know  me,  old  fellow?  Aha!  I 
thought  so  1" 

The  animal,  with  many  signs  of  friendly  recognition, 
at  once  ran  to  the  young  man,  and  leaped  and  fawned 
around  him  in  great  glee. 

"Keep  down,  you  outrageous  dog!"  said  the  latter, 
"  be  quiet,  sir !  But  what  the  deuce  has  brought  you  off 
here  alone  ?  Where's  your  master,  Prince  ?  What ! 
down  there  is  he?  coming  this  way,  I  suppose." 

The  brute  appeared  to  have  some  idea  of  the  purport 
of  the  question  thus  addressed  to  him ;  for,  skipping  away 


20  SARATOGA. 

in  the  direction  indicated,  he  turned,  and  looking  back, 
uttered  a  sort  of  half  bark,  as  much  as  to  say  "  Come  on." 
"No,  no,  my  fine  fellow,"  said  the  young  man,  "not 
till  I  have  finished  my  breakfast,  at  all  events." 

At  this  moment,  however,  the  sounds  of  a  horse's  foot 
steps,  coming  at  a  gallop,  began  to  be  heard ;  and  soon 
after,  and  before  the  person  of  the  rider  could  be  seen,  a 
clear  and  pleasant  female  voice,  called  out  through  the 
trees: 

"Prince!  why,  Prince,  you  truant,  where  have  you 
gone?  Prince!  There's  a  good  dog!  come  back  here 
at  once!" 

But  Prince  was  indifferent  to  the  call,  or  at  least  deferred 
answering  it  for  the  present ;  for  stepping  aside  from  the 
path,  he  seated  himself  upon  his  haunches,  and  with  his 
red  tongue  lolling  from  his  jaws,  awaited  with  composure 
the  course  of  events. 

Meanwhile,  the  young  man  hastily  arose  again,  for  the 
voice  of  the  new  comer  admonished  him  that  she  was  to 
be  received  with  more  ceremony  than  her  four-footed 
courier  had  been. 

When  the  horsewoman  emerged  into  view,  she  caused 
him  to  start  with  surprise,  for  the  apparition  which  she 
presented,  was  not  one  often  seen  in  the  wilderness.  Aside 
from  the  superior  quality  of  her  dress,  and  the  delicacy 
and  beauty  of  her  form,  her  cheeks  were  now  flushed  with 
exercise,  and  her  eyes  shone  with  excitement.  The  meet 
ing  to  both  was  unexpected,  and  the  embarrassment  was 
consequently  mutual.  The  young  lady  was  the  first  to 
recover  from  it,  and  feeling  the  absurdity  of  a  prolonged 
silence  under  such  circumstances,  she  said,  as  she  reined 
in  her  horse. 


A    MEETING    IN    THE    FOREST.  21 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  for  so  suddenly  intruding 
upon  you ;  but  my  dog,  that  I  see  sitting  there,  and  with 
whom  you  seem  to  be  acquainted,  ran  off  from  me,  and  I 
was  merely  following  him  for  a  little  way  up  this  pleasant 
path." 

"  Were  any  apologies  necessary,"  said  Walcott  in  reply, 
"  they  should  come  from  me,  who  should  have  been  astir 
like  you,  instead  of  idling  over  a  hunter's  meal.  You  are 
as  free  of  the  forest  as  others.  But  I  thought  I  was  far 
enough  from  places  where  young  ladies  rode  out  alone." 

11  Oh,  as  for  that,"  said  she,  "I  am  not  alone,  by  any 
means ;  the  dog  there,  for  instance — " 

"  It  is  the  sight  of  that  very  dog,"  he  replied,  "  which 
excites  my  curiosity;  for,  as  you  surmise,  he  is  an  old 
acquaintance,  and  I  thought  I  knew  every  body  that  knew 
him.  So,  when  he  came  up,  I  expected  to  see  him  fol 
lowed  by — " 

"  By  some  more  agreeable  person,  I  dare  say,"  she 
said,  laughing  as  she  interrupted  him ;  but  added,  after  a 
slight  pause,  during  which  she  sat  patting  the  neck  of  her 
horse,  while  now  and  then  she  stole  a  glance  at  her  new 
acquaintance, 

"  So,  you  can  form  no  idea  who  I  am?" 

"  You  will  pardon  me,"  he  answered,  "  if  I  confess 
myself  at  fault  on  that  head ;  but — may  I  take  the  liberty 
of  tightening  the  girths  of  your  saddle  ?  For  I  perceive 
them  to  be  loosened,  and  I  fear  if  you  should  ride  back 
with  the  same  mad-cap  speed  as  that  with  which  you 
came,  that  some  accident  might  happen." 

Here  he  made  a  movement  toward  the  side  of  the  horse, 
which,  from  the  suddenness  of  his  approach,  shied.  As 
the  young  man  had  feared,  the  loosened  girths  proved 


22  SARATOGA. 

dangerous,  for  the  saddle  turned  and  the  rider  was  thrown 
off  The  other,  however,  was  too  close  and  too  quick  to 
permit  any  serious  consequences ;  for  while  with  his  left 
hand  he  caught  the  bridle-rein  and  so  stopped  the  horse, 
with  the  right  he  caught  the  young  lady  round  the  waist, 
and  lifted  her  gently  to  the  ground ;  all  had  been  the 
work  of  but  a  moment.  Her  color  went  and  came  with 
the  suddenness  of  the  danger,  and  the  immediate  relief. 
She  found  at  the  moment,  no  words  to  express  either  fear, 
censure,  gratitude,  or  pleasure. 

" No  injury  is  done,  I  hope?"  said  the  young  man  as 
he  gazed  anxiously  in  her  face ;  "I  was  to  blame  for  the 
way  I  approached  you." 

"You  have,  I  must  say,"  she  answered,  now  beginning 
to  laugh  a  little  at  her  situation,  "  an  expeditious  way  of 
dismounting  your  opponents.  But  be  assured,  I  am  not 
at  all  incommoded,  and  must  thank  you  for  your  timely 
aid.  If  the  accident  had  not  occurred  here,  it  would  some 
where  else,  where  I  might  not  have  found  assistance." 

"  You  are  very  good  to  say  so,"  he  replied :  "  but  I  can 
hardly  forgive  my  own  awkwardness ;  but  let  me  now  re 
pair  the  mischief." 

Saying  this  he  speedily  readjusted  the  saddle,  and  ren 
dered  it  secure  against  the  recurrence  of  a  similar  mishap. 
He  then  gave  to  the  fair  rider  his  assistance  in  remount 
ing,  noticing  as  he  did  so,  her  small  buskined  foot,  and 
the  agile  spring  with  which  she  regained  her  place.  He 
almost  wished  to  himself  that  she  might  then  and  there, 
fall  off  again ;  it  was  so  pleasant  to  catch  her  in  his  arms, 
and  so  delightful  to  help  her  to  remount. 

"This  seems  destined  for  a  day  of  adventures  with  me," 
bhe  said,  "  for  this  is  my  second  one  since  daylight." 


A    MEETING    IN    THE    FOREST.  23 

"What  was  the  first?"  he  asked  quickly. 

"Nothing  but  a  great  fright,  after  all,"  she  replied, 
"  a  thing  not  worth  telling  of  now ;  but  I  fear  some  one 
may  be  expecting  me  down  yonder,  and  so  I  must  hasten 
my  departure.  I  think,  sir,"  she  added,  looking  archly 
in  his  face,  "  I  think  I  have  the  advantage  of  you — for  I 
imagine  that  I  know  who  you  are,  while  you  seem  not  to 
recognize  me.  I  have  the  better  memory,  or  the  warmer 
heart !  Good  morning  to  you  !" 

"  Stay  one  moment !"  he  said,  as  she  started ;  "  can  I 
not  know  to  whom  I  have  been  so  pleasantly  introduced ; 
at  least  so  much?" 

"Not  now,"  she  added  laughing,  as  she  rode  away; 
"  our  camp  is  not  far  off." 

So  saying,  she  galloped  rapidly  away,  and  soon  disap 
peared  around  the  turning  of  the  path.  The  young  man 
gazed  after  her  as  long  as  she  was  visible,  and  almost 
sighed  as  the  little  plume  in  her  riding-hat  at  last  became 
undistinguishable  among  the  leaves  of  the  forest.  He 
found,  on  turning  round,  a  little  to  his  surprise,  that  the 
dog  had  not  followed  his  mistress,  but  sat  as  coolly  as  if 
in  his  right  place,  or  as  if,  by  instinct,  he  had  divined 
that  the  young  man  would  soon  have  occasion  to  travel  the 
same  road  as  himself.  The  remains  of  the  morning's  meal 
were  soon  disposed  of,  the  larger  portion  being  given  to 
the  dog,  who,  without  scruple  took  upon  himself  the  char 
acter  of  a  guest.  The  young  man  then  gathered  up  his 
few  accouterments,  and  prepared  to  follow  his  late  visitor. 

"  It  must  be  little  Lucile,"  he  said  to  himself  musingly, 
as  he  went  along  :  "  she  knows  me,  and  goes  accompanied 
by  old  Valcour's  grayhound.  That  explains  it  all.  But 
what  a  charming  girl  she  has  grown !  I  suppose  Marion, 


24  SARATOGA. 

and  the  rest  of  them  are  with  her.  Heighho !  how  beau 
tiful  she  looked  on  that  Canadian  pony  1  I  wonder  what 
other  adventure  she  met  with.  But  I  shall  soon  know 
all  about  it." 

After  threading  his  way  for  some  distance  along  the 
path,  and  following  it  around  to  the  opposite  side  of  the 
valley,  he  suddenly  came  upon  the  party  to  which  the 
young  lady  was  attached. 

Before  proceeding  further,  it  is  proper  that  we  should 
give  the  reader  some  fuller  explanations  of  the  characters 
and  circumstances  of  the  various  personages  already  spoken 
of. 

Lucile  Valcour,  the  younger  of  the  girls,  was  the  only 
daughter  of  a  French  Canadian  refugee,  who,  during  the 
war  of  the  American  Revolution,  had  espoused  the  cause 
of  the  colonists ;  and  had,  in  consequence,  during  the  con 
tinuance  of  the  struggle,  been  compelled  to  abandon  the 
provinces  north  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  to  take  up  his 
abode  within  the  limits  of  the  United  States.  This  he 
had  been  enabled  to  accomplish  without  material  pecu 
niary  loss,  as  most  of  his  property  was  of  a  personal  and 
movable  character ;  and,  for  the  little  that  had  been  con 
fiscated,  he  was  afterward  liberally  rewarded  by  grants 
of  land  from  the  State  of  New  York. 

He  was  now  somewhat  advanced  in  life,  living  in 
retirement  and  affluence  at  a  country  seat  near  the  city 
of  New  York,  and  not  far  from  the  Huguenot  village  or 
settlement  of  New  Rochelle — a  place  recommended  to  hia 
favor  by  its  name,  and  by  the  example  of  his  compatriots, 
who,  exiled  for  a  different  cause,  had  formerly  established 
themselves  there. 

At  the  period  when  our  story  opens,  it  was  already 


A    MEETING    IN    THE    FOREST.  25 

customary  for  gentlemen  and  men  of  leisure,  during  the 
summer  months,  to  bring  their  families  from  the  towns 
and  the  sea-board  into  the  interior;  and  the  mineral 
springs  of  Ballston,  having  already  attracted  attention, 
had  thus  early  made  that  neighborhood  one  of  consider 
able  resort. 

Thither  had  Jules  Valcour  and  his  daughter  repaired. 

Among  those  by  whom  they  had  been  accompanied  were 
Colonel  Henry  Belden  and  his  daughter  Marion,  with 
whom  the  reader  is  partially  acquainted.  This  gentleman 
had  served,  with  some  credit,  in  the  American  army 
during  the  war.  He  was  now  living  in  comfortable  cir 
cumstances  jn  one  of  the  southern  counties  of  the  State ; 
and  was  an  old  friend  and  neighbor  (as  neighbors  then 
went)  of  Mr.  Valcour. 

In  respect  to  the  two  men  who  accompanied  the  riding 
party,  on  the  present  occasion,  the  one  was  a  thin  slightly 
made  man,  with  a  bronzed  and  hardy  countenance,  and  a 
wiry,  athletic  frame.  He  was  partially  dressed  in  the 
livery  of  a  groom,  for  such  things  had  not  then  gone  out 
of  fashion.  The  other,  though  to  appearance  an  Indian, 
was  in  reality  a  half-breed.  His  white  blood,  however, 
did  not  show  itself  so  much  in  his  appearance  as  in  some 
of  his  habits.  He  was  a  large,  powerful  man,  witfi  thick 
stolid  features,  and  small,  fiery  black  eyes.  His  garb  was 
chiefly  that  of  the  white  people,  with  whom,  when  occasion 
offered,  he  liked  to  associate.  He  was  armed  with  a  long 
rifle,  and  a  hunting-knife  stuck  in  his  belt.  The  groom 
was  also  provided  with  a  pair  of  horseman's  pistols. 

In  respect  to  our  young  woodsman,  Arthur  Walcott,  we 
have  also  a  few  more  words  to  say.  He  was  of  a  good 
New  York  family,  the  only  son  of  a  widowed  mother,  and 


26  SARATOGA. 

a  distant  relative  of  the  Beldens.  His  father,  who  had 
been  a  physician  of  some  distinction,  and  who  was  partic 
ularly  noted  for  his  treatment  of  the  insane  and  persons  of 
diseased  minds,  had  been  dead  many  years ;  and  the  young 
man  had  been  brought  up  with  a  good  education,  but  with 
much  indulgence,  and  with  but  few  restraints  upon  his 
inclinations.  Natural  good  sense  had,  however,  in  part, 
remedied  the  evil  caused  by  early  license. 

When  quite  young,  suitableness  of  age,  of  social  posi 
tion,  and  supposed  compatability  of  temper,  had  suggested 
to  his  mother,  and  to  the  father  of  Miss  Belden,  the  pro 
priety  of  a  marriage  between  them.  Hence  they  had  been 
taught  to  regard  themselves  as  affianced.  Beyond  this, 
they  gave  but  little  thought  to  the  matter.  This  relation, 
instead  of  kindling  any  positive  attachment  between  them, 
seemed,  on  the  contrary,  to  have  lulled  their  passions,  and 
to  have  superinduced  in  their  conduct,  in  spite  of  a  real 
and  mutual  esteem,  a  certain  indifference  of  bearing. 

Marion,  in  temperament,  was  gentle ;  quiet  and  lady 
like  in  manner;  with  no  lack  of  sensibility,  but  with 
much  reserve  and  self-possession.  She  was  tall,  well- 
formed,  with  light  complexion,  brown  eyes,  delicate  fea 
tures.  She  might  easily  have  excited  the  admiration  of 
any  young  man  of  taste  and  appreciation. 

Her  present  companion,  young  Lucile  Valcour,  was 
younger,  less  tall,  and  more  sprightly  than  herself.  Her 
temperament  was  warmer  and  more  mercurial ;  her  fea 
tures  less  regular,  but  more  mobile  and  expressive.  lier. 
eyes  and  hair  were  dark,  and  her  complexion  less  clear ; 
though  her  lips  and  her  cheeks  possessed  a  warmer  and 
richer  tint. 

She  knew  of  Marion's  engagement  to  young  Walcott ; 


A    MEETING    IN    THE    FOREST.  27 

though  of  the  latter  she  knew  but  little  else.  She  im 
agined,  however,  that  he  must  he  something  of  a  hero,  and 
.handsome  of  course.  That  he  and  Marion  were  ardent 
lovers  she  did  not  doubt.  She  had  not  seen  the  young 
man  for  some  years — not,  in  fact,  since  she  was  quite  a 
girl ;  and  she  had  almost  forgotten  him,  while  he  had 
wholly  forgotten  her.  When  she  met  him  in  the  forest 
she  had  merely  guessed  at  his  identity ;  and,  as  we  have 
seen,  he  had  arrived  at  her  own  by  the  same  process. 

So  much  by  way  of  introducing  some  of  the  persons 
with  whom  the  reader  is  to  become  acquainted  in  the 
course  of  the  story,  the  thread  of  which  we  now  resume. 

When  ypung  Walcott  approached  the  group  beneath 
the  beech-trees,  Miss  Belden  called  out  to  him,  say 
ing: 

"  Why.  Arthur,  who  would  have  expected  to  meet  you 
here  ?  I  thought  you  had  gone  up  to  the  lakes  fishing. 
You  are  a  gallant  man  indeed !  Lucile  says  she  found 
you  eating  your  breakfast  out  there  in  the  woods  alone. 
Why  couldn't  you  either  invite  us  to  join  you,  or  go  up 
to  the  cabin  and  take  it  with  us,  like  a  Christian?" 

"Pooh!  Marion,"  said  he,  as  he  sauntered  in  among 
them,  "how  was  I  to  know  you  were  here?  And  as  for 
the  hut,  I  take  it  that  I  know  how  to  broil  a  venison  steak 
as  well  as  Sandy  Brigham,  or  any  of  his  men.  But,  I 
say,  where  the  deuce  are  you  all  traveling  to,  in  thia 
Amazon-like  manner?" 

''We  did  not  come  quite  as  badly  attended  as  you 
think,"  replied  Marion;  "for  we  left  my  father  only  a 
little  way  back." 

"  Well  that's  fortunate,  as  far  as  it  goes,"  he  answered ; 
"  but  I  have  special  reasons  for  wishing  that  Wen  he 


28  SARATOGA. 

would  not  stray  off  amid  these  wilds  quite  so  much. 
Where  did  he  stop?" 

"  Only  a  mile  or  so  from  here,"  answered  Marion ; 
"he  took  a  path  to  the  right,  to  examine  some  bottom 
land,  as  he  called  it ;  and  he  promised  to  meet  us  here  by 
this  time.  So  we  came  on  with  James  and  the  guide." 

"  Well,"  said  the  young  man ;  "  I  hope  he  understands 
the  paths  well  enough  to  find  his  way  here;  for  these 
woods  are  not,  at  this  time,  quite  so  safe  as  they  might 
be." 

"Why,"  said  Marion,  quickly;  "what  is  there  to 
harm  him  ?" 

"  Many  things,"  said  he;  "  even  your  wandering  friend 
on  the  pony  there,  came  nigh  meeting  with  an  adventure 
just  now." 

"Oh!  I  forgot,"  exclaimed  Marion.  "Lucile,  this  is 
Mr.  Arthur  Walcott,  of  whom  you  have  heard  me 
speak." 

"He  ought  to  know  me  without  any  introduction," 
said  Lucile,  poutingly.  "  But  these  men  are  so  indif 
ferent  !  I  knew  him  at  once,  I  am  sure ;  but  he  only 
stared  at  me,  without  manifesting  any  interest,  instead 
of  speaking  to  me  familiarly  at  once,  as  he  should  have 
done  to  my  father's  daughter." 

"  But,  pray,  how  was  I  to  know  your  father's  daughter?" 
asked  Walcott. 

" How  did  you  know  his  dog?"  retorted  she.  "  Am  I 
of  less  consequence  than  Prince  ?" 

"Ah!  but  you  know,"  he  said,  "that  Prince  did  not 
hesitate  to  acknowledge  his  acquaintance  without  pretend 
ing  mystery." 

In  this  manner  the  young  people,  for  a  few  moments, 


A    MEETING    IN    THE    FOREST.  29 

conversed  together,  sometimes  seriously  and  sometimes 
jokingly;  but  their  conversation  was  at  length  inter 
rupted  suddenly,  and  in  a  manner  a  little  remarkable. 

The  hound,  which  had  been  for  a  few  seconds  uneasily 
snuffing  the  air,  all  at  once  began  to  yelp,  and  then  broke 
forth  into  full  cry.  Taking  a  few  turns  around  the  party, 
with  his  nose  to  the  ground,  he  then  set  off  at  full  speed, 
through  the  open  woods. 

The  Indian,  who  was  only  known  by  the  English  name 
of  Joe,  immediately  started  to  his  feet,  and,  without  a 
moment's  hesitation,  ran  rapidly  away,  following  the  course 
taken  by  the  dog,  which  was  in  a  south-westerly  direction. 

"  This  is  ',tarnal  strange,"  now  exclaimed  M'Carty,  the 
little  groom,  as  he  ventured  to  intrude  into  the  conversa 
tion  ;  "I  never  knowed  Indian  Joe  to  be  riled  up  so  sud 
den  before.  And  that  oneasy  dog  seems  to  have"  got  the 
hydrophoby  all  at  once.  Here,  Mr.  Walcott,  if  you'  11 
look  arter  the  young  women,  I  '11  try  and  see  what 's  the 
matter." 

But  it  was  already  too  late,  for  young  "Walcott  had 
disappeared,  leaving  the  two  girls  in  no  small  alarm,  at 
the  turn  affairs  had  taken ;  but  without  any  definite  idea 
of  what  the  cause  of  the  sudden  tumult  or  the  danger 
might  be. 

"Well,  to  be  sure,"  said  M'Carty,  grumbling;  "  when 
a  feller 's  young,  he 's  more  fit  for  runnin' ;  but  I  rayther 
think  I  understand  matters  here  in  the  woods  better  than 
any  on  'em.  Hows'ever,  let  'em  have  their  own  way  and 
I  'll^ust  wait  and  see  the  end  on 't." 

"  Do  you  think  any  thing  could  have  happened  to 
my  father,  James?"  asked  Miss  Belden,  with  much 
anxiety. 


30  SARATOGA. 

"There's  no  tellin',  miss,"  replied  M'Carty.  "Them 
houn's  is  odd  critters,  and  I  never  hear  'em  cry  out  that 
way  without  feelin'  sort  of  onsartain.  And  Joe,  too,  is  a 
parfect  bear-omcter,  as  they  says  at  sea ;  and  can  tell 
when  any  wild  critter's  about  by  the  feel  of  the  air ;  and 
especially  bears,  as  the  name  shows.  Now  miss — " 

"But,"  said  Marion,  interrupting  the  loquacious  at 
tendant,  "  if  any  thing  has  happened,  had  we  not  better 
ride  that  way?" 

"Not  a  bit  on  it,  Miss  Marion,"  replied  the  other, 
"  that  'ud  only  be  tanglin'  things  up  worse.  Keep  in  the 
traces,  says  I,  and  then  they'll  know  where  to  find  us." 

"But  what  can  it  be?"  persisted  the  alarmed  girl. 
"  There  can  be  no  danger  from  Indians,  and  I  hope  there 
are  no  wild  animals  about?" 

"As  I  said,  Miss  Marion,  there's  no  tellin',"  replied 
M'Carty,  "but — whew!  there  goes  that  yelpin'  hound 
again !  Can't  nobody  take  these  hosses  ?  But  no  !  I'd 
better  look  arter  his  gals.  That  'ud  be  the  Colonel's  orders, 
I  know." 


CHAPTER    II. 

CRAZY     JAKE. 

To  explain  what  was  the  real  cause  of  the  little  com 
motion  we  have  noted,  it  will  be  necessary  for  us  to  refer 
to  some  events  which  had  preceded  the  time  at  which  our 
story  opened 

Colonel  Belden,  with  his  daughter  and  her  friend,  accom 
panied  by  the  groom  and  the  guide,  had  early  that  morn 
ing  set  out  from  their  quarters  at  Ballston,  on  an  excur 
sion  through  the  woods.  Their  purpose  was  to  visit  the 
"Rock  Spring"  at  Saratoga,  which  had  already  become 
known,  and  was  ah  object  of  much  curiosity.  It  was 
situated  some  seven  or  eight  miles  distant  in  a  north 
easterly  direction.  As  the  day  was  likely  to  be  extremely 
warm,  they  had  taken  this  early  start,  in  order  to  arrive 
at  their  place  of  destination  before  the  full  heat  of  noon 
tide  could  be  felt.  Their  route  thither  lay  through  a 
heavy  pine  forest,  which  was  traversed  by  numerous  paths, 
worn  by  the  feet  of  animals,  or  those  of  the  Indians,  in 
their  different  migrations  and  hunting  excursions  over  the 
country. 

For  a  part  of  the  way,  the  path  lay  along  the  western 
bank  of  the  stream  now  known  as  the  Kayaderosseras 
Creek.  When  they  had  accomplished  about  half  of  their 


32  SARATOGA. 

journey,  they  reached  a  point  where  the  track  which  they 
were  to  follow,  diverged  to  the  northward,  and  left  the 
stream  some  distance  on  the  right.  The  Colonel,  who  af 
fected  an  agricultural  taste,  here  left  the  others  to  pursue 
the  regular  path,  while  he  went  to  examine  the  "  bottom 
lands"  along  the  creek.  lie  accordingly  rode  down  some 
distance  in  the  required  direction,  and  after  having  accom 
plished  his  object,  he  again  leisurely  resumed  his  journey, 
but  by  a  route  somewhat  to  the  eastward  of  that  taken  by 
the  young  people,  supposing  that  he  could  arrive  at  the 
place  of  rendezvous,  at  the  worst,  within  half  an  hour 
after  them. 

When,  however,  in  following  down  the  course  of  the 
stream,  he  came  to  a  point  where  it  diverged  considerably 
to  the  east;  and  where,  in  order  to  pursue  the  right 
course,  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  leave  it,  he  sought 
out  some  path  by  which  he  could  mount  the  high  bank, 
which  there  bordered  the  valley.  He  soon  found  a  narrow, 
rough,  dry  water-course,  by  which  he  hoped  to  ascend  the 
sharp  acclivity ;  and  into  this  he  immediately  turned  his 
horse. 

The  hour  was  still  early.  The  air  was  fresh  with  night 
dews,  and  the  copse  was  still  dim  with  lingering  shadows. 
Daylight  was  broad  upon  the  hills,  but  crept  more  slowly 
down  through  the  bushy  slopes  of  the  rocks,  and  the 
tangled  brakes  of  the  valleys. 

The  Colonel,  without  much  difficulty  for  an  old  gen 
tleman,  as  he  indeed  was,  rode  up  the  steep  and  stony 
way ;  but  when  he  had  nearly  reached  the  top,  at  a 
point  where  the  path  was  unusually  narrow  and  rough, 
there  suddenly  stood  before  him  an  apparition  which 
might  well  have  caused  a  younger  and  stronger  man 


CRAZY    JAKE.  33 

to  pause  in  alarm.  It  was  that  of  a  man  of  large  size, 
clad  in  the  skins  of  ivild  animals.  His  hair  was  long  and 
tangled,  and  his  beard  unshaven.  His  head  was  bare, 
and  his  feet  were  rudely  swathed  in  moccasins  of  untanned 
hides.  In  person  he  was  squalid  beyond  description ;  and 
although  he  was  apparently  a  white  man,  yet  so  weather- 
beaten  and  sunburnt  was  his  face,  and  so  disfigured  and 
distorted  by  brutal  habits,  and  unbridled  passions,  that 
one  might  almost  fancy  that  he  was  some  upright  beast 
of  prey. 

He  maintained  his  ground  square  in  the  pathway; 
eyeing  with  a  fierce  and  mocking  smile,  the  appalled 
traveler  whom  he  had  thus  suddenly  confronted.  It  must 
be  confessed  that  the  latter  had  sufficient  cause  for  terror. 
Although  a  man  of  nerve,  and  tried  courage,  he  was  not 
a  little  alarmed  at  his  present  position.  Rumors  had  in 
distinctly  reached  his  ears,  of  a  crazy  man,  who,  for  some 
years,  had  infested  these  woods;  and  had,  on  several 
occasions,  been  found  to  be  extremely  ferocious  and  vio 
lent.  These  rumors,  however,  had  been  so  vague  that 
Colonel  Belden  had  been  inclined  to  consider  the.  whole 
story  as  fabulous.  Now,  however,  there  was  before  him 
a  living  and  startling  proof  of  their  truth. 

The  horse,  also,  upon  which  he  rode,  seemed  quite  as 
uneasy  as  himself.  At  the  first  appearance  of  the  wild 
man,  he  had  snorted  and  plunged  with  violence,  but  after 
a  short  struggle  with  his  rider,  he  stood  trembling,  as  if 
in  some  sort  familiarized  with  the  danger,  or  fascinated 
by  it.  The  gorge  where  he  stood,  was  too  narrow  and 
steep  to  permit  of  turning  around ;  and  the  thicket  was 
on  all  sides  close  and  apparently  impenetrable.  The  place 

was  a  natural  ambush. 
8 


34  SARATOGA. 

At  last,  to  put  a  bold  face  upon  the  matter,  Colonel 
Belden  accosted  the  stranger,  saying : 

"  Well,  iny  friend,  how  do  you  do  this  morning?  My 
horse  was  a  little  frightened  at  your  sudden  appear 
ance." 

"Fine  morning,"  said  the  lunatic,  his  face  suddenly 
flushing,  and  becoming  covered  with  a  hearty  look  of 
welcome  and  good-will;  "fine  morning,  sir,  he  !  he  !  I 
say,  come  in  to  breakfast !"  With  that  he  stepped  back 
a  few  paces,  and  opening  the  bushes  on  one  side,  disclosed 
a  passage  into  the  adjoining  thicket,  on  the  top  of  the 
acclivity. 

Colonel  Belden  moved  forward,  scarcely  knowing  what 
course  to  pursue,  or  how  to  get  rid  of  his  dangerous  com 
panion. 

"  Ha !  ha !"  shouted  the  latter,  as  he  led  the  way  on 
ward,  making  the  woods  resound  with  his  loud,  sonorous 
laughter.  "You're  not  too  late  for  breakfast  arter 
all,  I  say !  Put  on  the  kettle  there !  ha !  ha  !  ho ! 
ho !" 

At  every  utterance  of  his  stentorian  voice,  the  horse 
would  start  and  tremble,  as  if  aware  of  the  dangerous 
presence  of  that  most  fearful  thing — a  wandering  human 
intellect. 

The  strange  man  now  led  the  way  forward  over  the 
level  ground,  shouting  with  wild  merriment,  and  leaping, 
as  he  went.  His  appearance  indicated  him  to  be  a  man 
of  immense  strength,  though  his  head  was  already  pre 
maturely  bald.  His  face  generally  wore  a  smiling  or  a 
mocking  look,  but  was  subject  to  great  and  unexpected 
changes  of  expression. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  the  Doctor  ?"  said  he,  suddenly 


CRAZY    JAKE.  85 

turning  to  Colonel  Belden,  as  they  went  along.  "  Now, 
do  you  know  the  Doctor  has  got  a  notion  that  he  is  a 
stronger  man  than  I  am.  Ha  !  ha  !  ho  !  ho  !  But  let 
me  once  catch  him  out  here  in  the  woods  alone,  as  I  do 
you" — (here  he  paused,  and  his  countenance  changed 
from  its  ruddy  color  and  smiling  expression  to  the  white 
ness  of  death,  and  an  appalling  scowl  of  mortal  hatred) — 
"  and  by  the  God  that  sits  in  the  sky,"  he  continued, 
stretching  his  bare  arm  high  above  him;  "I'd  tear  him 
to  pieces  like  a  bundle  of  leaves!  But,  I  say"  (here  his 
face  again  resumed  its  old  expression  and  color),  let's 
hurry  in  to  breakfast !  ha  !  ha !  ho !  ho !" 

They  had  now  reached  a  small  open  space,  on  one  side 
of  which  the  lunatic  had  erected  a  kind  of  hut,  of  bark 
and  boughs. 

"  How  do  you  like  my  house  ?"  said  he,  turning  to  his 
unwilling  guest;  "some  think  it's  too  clus  in  here;  and 
some,"  he  continued,  turning  to  the  south  side  and  part 
ing  the  bushes  ;  "  some  do  n't  like  the  prospect  from  this' 
window!     Ha!  ha!  ho!  ho!" 

By  opening  the  bushes,  he  disclosed  that  on  this  side 
was  a  deep  gulf  or  precipice,  extending  sheer  down  into 
the  valley  of  the  creek.  This  was  deep  enough  and  pre 
cipitous  enough  to  render  a  plunge  or  fall  from  its  brink 
inevitably  fatal. 

"That's  my  cellar,"  he  added,  "where  I  keep  my 
fresh  game.  I  '11  soon  give  you  a  chance  to  try  it,  so 
dismount  and  join  me  in  a  glass  of  tea  first,  ha  !  ha  ! 
ho!  ho!" 

Colonel  Belden  now  found  himself  compelled  to  dis 
mount,  for  the  strange  being,  who  had  seized  the  horse  by 
the  bridle,  was  at  en-ch  moment  becoming  more  wild  and  un- 


36  SARATOGA. 

governable.  The  horse  was  then  turned  loose  in  the 
woods,  and  was  driven  from  the  spot  by  sticks  and  stones 
hurled  after  him.  Meanwhile  the  lunatic  kept  leaping 
and  laughing  through  the  open  space,  and  making  the 
woods  ring  again  with  his  shouts. 

The  old  man  was  wholly  unarmed ;  and  even  if  it  had 
been  otherwise,  he  might,  perhaps,  have  hesitated  about 
making  use  of  deadly  weapons,  except  in  the  last  ex 
tremity.  At  the  same  time  he  could  not  but  entertain 
serious  misgivings  as  to  the  issue  of  his  present  dilemma. 
His  thoughts  also  painfully  dwelt  upon  the  alarm  and 
distress  into  which  his  daughter  would  be  thrown  by  his 
prolonged  and  unaccountable  absence. 

The  place  where  all  this  occurred  was  a  little  less  than 
two  miles  from  the  spot  where  Marion  and  her  companion 
had  halted.  The  air  was,  at  the  time,  still ;  not  a  breath 
of  wind  stirred  the  trees ;  and  not  a  sound  disturbed  the 
forest  where  they  were.  The  harsh,  dissonant  shouts  of 
the  wild  man,  rendered  faint  by  the  distance,  had  reached 
the  acute  ears  of  the  hound,  and  of  the  Indian ;  while 
they  had  made  no  impression  upon  the  less  trained  senses 
of  the  others.  Arthur  Walcott  heard  nothing;  but 
readily  divining  that  something  unusual  must  have  at 
tracted  the  attention  of  the  dog,  and  aroused  the  sluggish 
apathy  of  the  savage,  he  had  followed  their  footsteps 
closely,  to  meet,  with  them,  whatever  danger  might 
exist. 

After  going  for  some  distance  in  a  direct  line,  he 
began,  at  length,  to  hear  the  cries  and  shouts  which  had 
startled  the  Indian.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  a  faint 
glimmering  of  the  true  character  of  the  danger  began  to 
dawn  upon  him.  This  only  increased  his  anxiety ;  and  it 


CRAZY    JAKE.  37 

was  now,  almost  with  the  fierce  agility  of  a  panther,  that 
he  sprang  forward.  In  appearance,  even,  he  became 
greatly  changed.  His  eyes  dilated  and  assumed  a 
steady  look  of  menace.  His  lips  were  compressed,  and 
the  veins  in  his  forehead  swollen  and  knotted,  like  whip 
cord.  His  movement,  which  before  was  laborious,  now 
became  light  and  easy;  and  he  even  gained  upon  the 
Indian. 

At  last  the  dog  suddenly  stopped  upon  the  verge  of  a 
thicket,  and  sitting  down  began,  continuously,  to  raise  his 
long,  mournful,  howl.  The  savage,  immediately  after 
ward,  dashed  through  the  brake  beyond  him;  and  then 
was  heard  the  loud  cry  of  the  lunatic  again ;  which  Wal- 
cott  was  in  doubt  whether  to  attribute  to  the  arrival  of 
the  Indian,  or  to  the  execution  of  some  plan  of  mischief 
previously  prepared. 

It  was  one  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  lunatic  that  he 
was  generally  silent  except  when  he  met  with  some  human 
being,  or  was  meditating  some  violence.  This  Walcott 
well  knew ;  and  from  Colonel  Belden's  long  absence,  he 
apprehended  that  some  danger  from  that  quarter  might 
threaten  him.  The  shouts  of  the  maniac  were  now  loud 
and  obstreperous,  and  as  Walcott  approached  he  could 
distinguish  the  following : 

"  Try  it  again,  old  bald  pate !  ha !  ha !  Try  it  again! 
next  time  you  may  reach  it !  Oh  !  how  jolly !  Reach 
higher,  I  say !  But  ho  !  ho !  who's  this  ?  Take  that, 
for  coming  without  an  invitation !  There 's  hell  behind 
you,  yellow  dog  !  Ha !  ha  !  Try  it  again,  old  white- 
top!  Ho!  ho!" 

His  raving  and  merriment  appeared  to  have  reached  a 
climax,  he  fairly  screamed  with  delight ;  and  the  savage 


88  SARATOGA. 

came  bursting  back  from  the  thicket,  with  every  mark  of 
mortal  terror  in  his  looks  and  actions. 

Walcott  now  dashed  forward,  and  pushing  aside  the 
bushes,  he  saw  Colonel  Belden,  bound  to  a  tree,  in  a 
curious  and  alarming  way.  The  sapling,  when  in  its 
natural  position,  inclined  far  over  the  brink  of  the  preci 
pice  ;  but  the  lunatic  had  contrived  to  bend  it  back,  so 
that,  while  holding  it,  he  tied  the  body  of  the  poor  old 
man  to  it  with  a  stout  thong.  In  his  muscular  grasp,  his 
victim  was  like  a  child ;  and  the  feeble  resistance  he  met 
with,  hardly  impeded  his  operations.  When  the  lashing 
was  securely  accomplished,  the  tree  was  released  from  his 
hold,  when  it  immediately  began  to  assume  its  natural 
position,  over  the  rock.  The  struggle  was  now  between 
the  elastic  force  of  the  young  sapling,  and  the  failing  and 
nearly  exhausted  strength  of  the  old  man.  As  soon  as 
this  should  fail,  he  would  be  dragged  by  the  recoil  entirely 
over  the  precipice,  where  the  suspension  would  cause  a 
lingering  and  most  painful  death  ;  or  where  the  breaking 
of  the  cords  which  held  him,  would  precipitate  him  upon 
the  rocks  and  broken  stones  far  below. 

It  was  just  about  the  time  when  the  waning  energies 
of  the  victim  had  become  almost  exhausted,  that  young 
Walcott  arrived  upon  the  scene.  The  Indian  had  pre 
viously  made  his  appearance,  but  one  thrust  of  the  lunatic 
had  hurled  him  back  as  if  he  had  been  a  child;  and, 
cowed  by  what  appeared  to  him  supernatural  strength, 
he  had  then  turned  and  fled. 

With  Walcott,  however,  it  was  different.  After  emerg 
ing  upon  the  open  space,  he  walked  stealthily  but  rapidly 
up  to  where  the  wild  man  stood,  and  laid  his  hand  firmly 
upon  his  shoulder.  The  latter  turned  fiercely  about,  as 


CRAZY    JAKE.  39 

if  to  grapple  with  this  new  intruder ;  but  meeting  with  the 
fixed,  unflinching  glare  of  his  eye,  he  suddenly  changed 
iiis  manner ;  and  with  unaccountable  marks  of  submission 
And  fear,  he  exclaimed : 

"  The  old  Doctor,  by  the  Lord !" 

Young  Walcott,  turning  him  about,  and  pointing  away, 
said — • 

"  I  told  you  not  to  come  here  again !  Do  you  under 
stand  me  now  ?  Go !" 

The  madman  was  ruled  as  by  magnetic  power.  When 
released  from  the  hold  of  the  other,  he  slunk  away,  cowed 
and  silent — and  after  getting  a  few  rods  distant,  fled  at 
the  top  of  his  speed,  and  soon  disappeared  in  the  distance. 

The  savage  having  seen  through  the  bushes  what  had 
taken  place,  now  made  his  appearance  again ;  and  gave 
an  emphatic  evidence  of  his  astonishment  by  the  charac 
teristic  exclamation  of  "  ugh  I"  Walcott,  in  his  eyes,  was 
a  mighty  "  medicine  man." 

By  this  time  the  attention  of  both  had  become  ncoco- 
sary  to  rescue  the  old  man  from  his  perilous  position ;  for 
his  strength  had  at  last  utterly  failed ;  and  after  endeav 
oring  in  vain  to  clutch  some  bushes  to  stay  or  retard  his 
descent,  he  was  swung,  with  a  heavy  lurch,  far  over  the 
brink  of  the  rock;  and  was  now  suspended  from  the 
branches  of  the  swinging  tree.  Here  his  situation  was 
dangerous  in  the  extreme,  for  besides  the  circumstance 
that  life  could  not  long  be  sustained  in  such  a  position,  it 
was  found  that  the  cord  by  which  he  hung  was  composed 
of  thongs  of  bark  rudely  twisted  together ;  and  that  at 
every  oscillation  of  the  tree,  they  continued  slowly  to  un 
wind.  It  was  obvious  that  as  soon  as  they  should  become 
sufficiently  untwisted,  to  bring  the  weight  more  unevenly 


40  SARATOGA. 

upon  them,  the  separate  strands  would  break  one  after 
another,  and  the  weight  which  they  held  would  drop.  He 
could  not  be  reached  from  the  top  of  the  rock.  There  was 
nothing  which  could  be  thrown  to  him,  by  which  he  could 
be  hauled  up.  The  least  additional  strain  upon  the  bark 
rope,  it  was  feared,  might  cause  it  to  snap  at  once.  Time 
was  precious,  and  it  seemed  that  nothing  but  instant,  and 
almost  miraculous  action,  could  be  effectual. 

The  course  now  pursued  met  the  emergency.  Walcott 
did  what,  at  first  sight,  appeared  to  be  most  calculated  to 
hasten  the  catastrophe.  He  sprang  into  the  young  sapling 
itself,  and  climbing  out  upon  it,  caused  it  gradually  to 
sink  down  beneath  his  additional  weight.  By  this  means 
the  old  man  was  lowered  some  distance  down  the  chasm. 
The  young  man  finding,  however,  that  his  own  weight 
was  insufficient,  called  to  the  Indian,  who  had  been  look 
ing  on,  with  curious  attention,  and  who,  now  that  he  com 
prehended  the  object  of  the  proceeding,  sprang  lightly 
into  the  branches  of  the  tree.  This,  under  the  new  load, 
slowly  bent  over  like  an  enormous  withe,  till  the  old 
gentleman,  more  dead  than  alive,  was  lowered  to  a  table 
or  shelf  of  the  rock,  near  the  bottom  of  the  gorge ;  while 
Walcott,  swinging  himself  downward  after  him,  soon  re 
leased  him  from  his  bonds,  and  the  tree  was  then  allowed 
to  resume  its  old  position.  In  all  this  manceuver,  there 
was  little  or  no  danger,  except  to  the.  person  to  be  relieved. 
The  sapling  would  bend,  but  ten  times  the  weight  put 
upon  it,  would  not  have  broken  it. 

As  soon  as  they  were  all  safely  landed  below,  Colonel 
Belden,  in  the  reaction  which  followed  his  severe  struggles, 
and  in  the  sense  of  a  sudden  relief  from  a  great  danger, 
fainted  away.  He  was  in  that  state  carried  to  the  top  of 


CRAZY    JAKE.  41 

the  bank,  where  the  two  men  busied  themselves  in  effect 
ing  his  restoration.  Shortly  after  he  had  been  brought 
to  his  senses,  and  as  soon  as  he  was  sufficiently  recruited 
to  walk,  they  all  started,  at  a  slow  pace,  for  the  spot 
where  his  daughter  and  her  companions  had  appointed  to 
meet  him.  JChe  horse  which  he  had  ridden  had  fled,  and 
it  was  deemed  useless,  at  that  time,  to  look  for  him  in 
those  uncertain  wilds. 

"Arthur,  my  dear  boy,"  said  the  old  man  as  they 
slowly  and  painfully  pursued  their  journey ;  "  nature  has 
intended  you  for  a  soldier.  I  noticed,  even  in  the  ex 
tremity  of  the  peril,  the  coolness  and  promptitude  with 
which  all  yo/ar  measures  were  taken.  But  how,  in  the 
name  of  all  that  is  curious,  have  you  acquired  such  con 
trol  over  that  crazy  man  ?  That  puzzles  me  more  than 
all.  And,  by  the  way,  who,  and  what  is  he?  I  had 
often  heard  vague  reports  of  such  a  person,  but  never, 
until  to-day,  have  I  believed  them.  Do  you  know  any 
thing  about  him,  Joe  ?  You  live  in  these  parts,  I  believe, 
and  must  have  met  him  often  before." 

"  Indian  know  him,"  replied  Joe,  "  been  here  five,  six, 
tree  year'.  He  kill  bear,  kill  white  man,  kill  Indian,  kill 
all.  He  de  debbill !  He  big  medicine  man !  no  good, 
see  him ;  no  good  fight  him.  He  de  dibbell !  ugh !" 
.  "  There 's  a  satisfactory  answer,  any  way ;  eh,  Arthur? 
Well,  Joe,  I  suppose  he  must  pass  for  the  devil  in  your 
opinion.  .But,  Arthur,  my  lad,  it  seems  to  me  that  your 
influence  was  a  little  singular.  I  should  like  to  know 
how  you  acquired  it;  and,  above  all  things,  it  strikes  me 
that  this  poor  fellow  should  be  properly  cared  for,  and  put 
under  such  restraint  as  will  prevent  him  from  doing  fur 
ther  mischief  to  himself  or  others.' 


42  SARATOGA. 

"Why,  sir,"  replied  the  young  man,  "it  would  be  a 
long-  story.  I  ain  afraid  to  give  you  a  full  account  of  him. 
As  yet,  so  far  as  I  know,  he  has  not  done  any  great  harm, 
though  they  tell  strange  stories  about  him.  I  believe 
he  was  known  to  my  father ;  and  he  seems,  in  some  way; 
to  confound  me  with  him :  for,  when  I  spoke  to  him  to 
day,  he  called  me  'the  old  Doctor.'  It  is,  no  doubt, 
owing  to  this  delusion  that  I  was  able  to  control  him. 
In  fact,  this  is  not  the  first  time  I  have  met  him.  I  be 
lieve  he  would  be  a  little  dangerous  with  most  men.  I 
should  much  dislike  to  have  him  meet  with  any  persons 
who  should  be  weak  enough  to  manifest  any  fear  of  him. 
And  it  seems  that  even  your  coolness,  Colonel,  was  no  pro 
tection  against  him.  But,  good  heaven !  what  is  that  I 
hear?  There  is  his  shout  again!  He  must  certainly 
have  met  some  one  else !  Can  it  be  ? — It  must  be 
Marion  or  one  of  the  party !" 

Saying  this,  he  sprang  hastily  forward,  and,  without 
making  further  explanations,  disappeared  through  the 
trees. 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE     ABDUCTION. 

IT  will  be  borne  in  mind  that  when  our  attention  was 
last  withdrawn  from  the  party  of  the  young  girls,  they 
were  still  uiider  the  "beech-trees"  with  their  horses,  and 
the  groom,  M'Carty.  Naturally,  all  felt  much  alarm  at 
the  sudden  departure  of  Walcott  and  the  Indian ;  and 
their  anxiety  was  intense,  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  the 
disturbance,  and  what  connection,  if  any,  Colonel  Belden 
might  have  with  it.  For  some  time  they  continued  to  hear 
the  yelp  of  the  hound,  as  he  receded  further  and  further 
away ;  but,  at  length,  all  sounds  died  out  in  the  distance, 
and  the  poor  girls  were  left  alone  to  painful  conjecture. 
As,  however,  silence  prevailed  for  a  long  time,  they 
began,  gradually,  to  resume  a  little  courage ;  and,  at  last, 
they  so  far  forgot  the  causes  of  their  anxiety,  as  to  observe 
with  more  curious  attention,  the  character  of  the  spot  in 
which  they  were.  They  also  had  the  curiosity  to  look  for 
some  of  those  new  and  celebrated  springs  with  which  the 
neighborhood  was  said  to  abound,  and  which  they  had,  in 
part,  ventured  so  far  to  visit. 

One  of  these  they  found  by  following  the  deer  path 
into  the  edge  of  the  marsh.  The  fountain  itself  was 
plainly  indicated  by  the  redness  of  the  earth  which  sur- 


44  SAKATOGA. 

rounded  it,  caused  by  the  deposition  of  the  copious  solu 
tion  of  iron,  with  which  it  is  charged.  But  the  water, 
which  rose  up  and  burst  forth,  like  a  boiling  Geyser,  was 
bright  and  sparkling,  and  as  clear  as  crystal.  It  gushed 
up  in  great  abundance,  and  flowed  off  in  a  steady  and 
copious  stream.  The  fixed  air  broke  in  continued  bubbles 
from  its  surface,  as  from  a  glass  of  sparkling  wine.  It  is 
now  known  as  Columbian  Spring. 

For  some  time  they  amused  themselves  about  this  spring, 
drinking  of  its  water,  and  wondering  at  its  liveliness  and 
exuberance.      At   length,   however,  the  three — for  the 
groom  had  fastened  the  horses,  and  gone  with  them  to  the 
fountain — returned  along  the  rude  pathway.     When  they 
came  forth  from  the  thicket  of  alder  bushes,  they  were 
surprised  not  to  find  the  horses  which  they  had  left  tied 
to  the  trees.     Every  thing  around  them  was  still,  and 
nothing  gave  a  clew  to  the  mystery.     The  groom  was  the 
first  to  observe  the  fact.     He  immediately  endeavored,  by 
means  of  the  tracks,  to  find*  out  in  what  direction  they  had 
gone.     lie  soon  ascertained  that  the  course  taken  was 
backward,  and  around  the  circular  beaten  path.     The 
animals  must  have  been  untied,  for  no  remnants  of  broken 
bridle  reins  were  left  behind.     They  seemed,  also,  after 
a  short  distance,  to  have  gone  away  at  a  rapid  pace.     He 
followed  the  tracks  till  he  came  to  a  place  where  the 
ground  was  much  trodden  by  them  ;  and  as  footprints  led 
thence  in  all  directions,  it  was  impossible  to  divine  what 
way  further  they  had  really  gone.     Selecting  those  foot 
marks  which  appeared  the  most  distinct,  and  which  went 
off  through  the  underwood,  quite  away  from  any  regular 
course,  he  followed  them  for  ten  or  fifteen  rods.     When 
in  a  part  of  the  woods  more  close  and  impenetrable  than 


THE    ABDUCTION.  45 

usual,  ho  suddenly  felt  himself  seized  from  behind,  and 
thrown,  with  violence,  to  the  ground.  In  a  twinkling  he 
found  himself  pinioned  and  helpless. 

"•  Ha !  ha !  ho  !  ho !"  shouted  a  stentorian  voice  beside 
him.  "  So,  my  little  lamb,  I  've  got  you  again,  have  I  ? 
This  time  I  '11  give  you  a  tether  you  won't  get  rid  of  so 
easy." 

"Well,"  said  the  undaunted  M'Carty,  "for  a  cussed 
boss  thief,  I  must  say  you  've  done  it  pretty  considerable 
well.  But,  I  say,  you  're  a  pretty  lookin'  object,  hain't 
you?  But  what  in  darnation  is  the  creatur  about  now?" 

This  question  was  elicited  by  the  unusual  proceedings 
of  the  maniac,  who  had  caught  hold  of  a  young  tree  close 
at  hand  and  pulled  it  over,  till,  as  he  sat  on  it,  the  top 
lay  on  the  ground.  When  he  had  got  it  in  this  position, 
he  proceeded  to  make  arrangements  for  fastening  his  new 
prisoner  to  it.  By  this  time,  however,  M'Carty  had 
begun  to  comprehend  something  of  the  nature  of  the  con 
trivance  ;  but,  as  his  hands  were  securely  tied,  he  was  not 
in  a  situation  to  render  any  very  effectual  resistance. 
Watching  his  opportunity,  notwithstanding,  as  he  was 
pulled  to  the  tree,  still  lying  upon  his  back,  he  succeeded 
in  giving  his  captor  a  violent  thrust  with  his  feet,  which 
sent  him  to  some  distance ;  and  the  bent  sapling  sprang 
back  to  its  upright  position.  M'Carty,  meanwhile,  got 
upon  his  feet,  and  started  off  in  hope  to  make  good  his 
escape  by  running.  In  this,  however,  he  found  himself 
egregiously  mistaken ;  for  he  had  scarcely  made  a  dozen 
steps,  before  he  was  recaptured  and  flung  again  to  the 
ground,  with  as  much  facility  as  if  he  had  been  the  merest 
child. 

"And  so,  my  little  pet,"  exclaimed  his  tormentor,  "  you 


46  SARATOGA. 

thought  to  get  away  did  you  ?  Would  n't  it  be  nice 
though?  ha!  ha!  But  I'll  give  you  a  beautiful  swing 
this  time,  eh?  so  that  even  the  Doctor  can't  get  you 
loose." 

Saying  this,  he  lifted  M'Carty  in  his  arms  and  carried 
him  back ;  and  after  tying  him  to  a  tree,  he  again  pro 
ceeded  with  his  plan,  which  seemed  to  be  a  favorite  with 
him.  This  time,  M'Carty  could  not  defeat  the  operation, 
and  he  soon  found  himself  securely  lashed  to  the  elastic 
sapling ;  and  having  a  strong  suspicion  that  though  the 
weight  of  the  lunatic  had  bent  it  down,  his  own  would  not 
suffice  to  keep  it  there.  Such,  in  a  few  moments,  proved 
to  be  the  fact.  For,  no  sooner  was  the  sapling  loosened 
from  the  hold  of  the  lunatic,  than  it  swung  the  little  groom 
up  into  the  air,  like  a  scarecrow  on  a  pole.  As,  however, 
he  was  tied  by  the  waist,  he  did  not,  immediately,  expe 
rience  any  special  inconvenience.  To  be  sure,  he  felt 
absurd  and  helpless  enough,  thus  dangling  about  among 
the  bushes ;  and  he  also  entertained  some  apprehensions 
as  to  how  long  his  remaining  in  that  "bad  eminence" 
might  continue ;  or  rather,  how  long  he  might  be  able  to 
endure  it.  His  position,  however,  seemed  to  afford  his 
captor  infinite  amusement.  He  laughed,  shouted,  and 
screamed  in  the  most  frantic  manner,  and  even  fairly 
rolled  upon  the  ground,  in  the  excess  of  his  enjoyment. 
The  woods  again  resounded  with  his  unearthly  glee. 
*  Meanwhile  the  two  helpless  girls,  who  were  now  left 
entirely  alone  near  the  Spring,  were  in  a  condition  little 
to  be  envied.  Of  the  meaning  of  those  strange,  wild 
shouts  they  were  utterly  ignorant.  There  was  something 
in  the  sounds  too  unnatural  to  encourage  them  to  approach 
them.  But  the  agony  of  suspense  at  last  overcoming  all 


THEABDUCTION.  47 

the  other  feelings,  Lucile  proposed  to  go  and  ascertain,  if 
possible,  what  had  happened.  After  much  debate,  thia 
course  was  consented  to.  She,  accordingly,  stepped 
lightly  and  cautiously  forward  toward  the  spot  whence 
the  noise  proceeded.  She  had  gone  but  a  short  distance, 
however,  before  those  formidable  sounds  had  altogether 
ceased,  and  the  woods  had  become  hushed  and  silent. 
Still,  though  with  trembling  footsteps,  she  pursued  her 
course ;  but  paused  in  uncertainty  at  the  place  where  the 
horse-tracks  led  away  in  different  directions.  The  sudden 
silence  oppressed  her  with  the  sense  of  some  new  danger. 
The  stillness  was  as  mysterious  as  the  preceding  noise 
had  been,  ar>d  seemed  much  more  to  be  feared.  While 
she  was  in  this  state  of  uncertainty  and  apprehension,  her 
attention  was  attracted  by  a  slight  rustling  among  the 
leaves  close  at  hand,  and  looking  that  way  more  steadily, 
she  discovered  a  pair  of  large,  fierce,  wild  eyes,  gazing  upon 
her  through  the  foliage.  Her  first  thought  was  that  they 
belonged  to  some  wild  animal ;  but  gradually  the  outlines 
of  a  human  countenance  became  faintly  recognizable 
througk  the  leaves.  The  character  of  the  expression, 
however,  was  not  at  all  calculated  to  reassure  her.  In 
the  look  of  madness  there  is  always  something  more 
painful  and  startling  than  in  the  gaze  of  the  wildest  and 
most  untameable  beast  of  prey. 

Lucile,  without  knowing  whom  or  what  she  was  to  en 
counter,  felt  herself,  nevertheless,  mysteriously  influenced 
by  the  singular  stare,  of  which  she  found  herself  the 
object.  To  a  certain  extent  she  was  paralyzed.  She  was 
not  of  a  timid  nature ;  but  at  that  moment  she  experienced 
the  fascinating  power  of  a  real,  or  supposed,  great  peril 
She  was  unable  to  withdraw  her  look  or  to  move  her 


48  SARATOGA. 

limbs.  She  would  have  cried  out,  as  much  for  aid  for  her 
self,  as  in  warning  to  her  friend,  but  her  tongue  was  stricken 
as  with  palsy,  and  she  was  incapable  of  uttering  a  sound. 

Tht»  spell  at  length  was  broken.  Slowly  parting  the 
bushes,  the  maniac  came  forth  and  stood  confronting  her. 
wild,  hideous,  and  mocking.  He  gazed  upon  her  with 
mingled  curiosity,  admiration,  and  menace.  The  object 
now  presented  to  his  sight  was,  it  would  appear,  new  to 
him ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  his  manner  was  that  of  one 
who  had  unexpectedly  fallen  upon  a  prize,  which  he  did 
not  indeed  quite  understand,  but  which  he  had  no  idea  of 
relinquishing. 

Poor  Lucile !  If  alarmed  before  she  knew  the  danger, 
how  much  was  her  apprehension  increased,  now  that  it 
stood  before  her.  The  madman  certainly  presented  n< 
pleasant  object  of  contemplation,  though  his  conduct  wa& 
so  far  unusual  that  he  indulged  in  none  of  his  sardonic 
laughter,  and  uttered  no  wild  shouts.  All  his  merriment 
had  passed  away.  Solemnity  sat  upon  his  rude  features. 
Even  an  apparent  effort  to  recover  some  lost  train  of  ideas 
was  perceptible  on  his  countenance.  Perhaps  the  beauti 
ful  object  before  him  vainly  and  ineffectually  touched  some 
chord  in  his  ruined  memory ;  recalling  dimly  and,  per 
haps,  unconsciously,  not  the  images,  but  the  emotions,  of 
other  days.  What  may  have  been  the  struggle  to  connect 
that  which  he  saw  with  what  he  had  seen  before ;  or  how 
the  sweet  look  of  woman  may  have  had  reference  to  the 
tenderness  of  a  mother's  early  caresses,  can  not  now  be 
told.  Alas !  for  the  poor  wandering  lunatic !  no  mother's 
heart  would  ever  again  beat — no  mother's  eye  ever  again 
light  up  with  affection  and  pride.  On  earth  no  consoling 
voice  was  destined  to  soothe  his  passions  or  alleviate  his 


THE    ABDUCTION.  49 

sorrows ;  or  sympathize  with  him  in  his  struggles  and  his 
joys.  The  lamp  of  intellect  had  gone  out  forever,  and 
he  was  left  in  the  darkness  of  solitude  and  abandonment. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  connection  of  his  present 
conduct  with  the  dim  and  confused  recollections  of  his 
past  life,  there  he  stood,  still  silent  and  gazing  at  the  frail 
and  beautiful  being  who  trembled  before  him.  Can  it  be 
believed  ?  From  his  dark  and  solemn  eyes,  so  saddened 
by  unaccountable  sympathies,  roll  forth  tears,  that  still 
hang  upon  their  motionless  lashes !  But  no !  a  deep 
gulf  separates  him  from  all  the  tender,  treasured  mem 
ories  of  the  past,  and  he  may  never,  on  earth,  re-cross  it ! 

Not  long,  Jiowever,  did  this  unwonted  mood  continue. 
The  charm  was  soon  broken ;  for  the  tramp  of  hasty  steps, 
and  the  cry  of  a  running  hound,  not  far  away,  caused  him 
to  start.  The  old  expression  of  mingled  fatuity,  malice, 
and  cunning  came  back.  In  an  instant,  and  before  she 
was  aware  of  his  intent,  he  caught  the  young  girl  in  his 
arms,  and  darted  away  with  her  through  the  forest.  One 
scream  of  terror  was  all  she  could  utter,  before,  in  the 
extremity  of  her  apprehensions,  nature  came  to  her  relief; 
and  she  fainted,  and,  for  a  long  time,  knew  no  more. 

When  Walcott  had,  as  we  have  related,  left  Colonel 
Belden  and  Indian  Joe,  on  their  way  to  the  place  of  ren 
dezvous  originally  agreed  upon,  he  hastened  on  before 
them  at  the  top  of  his  speed.  The  others  followed  him  as 
fast  as  they  could.  The  dog  alone  kept  pace  with  him. 
On  arriving  at  the  "  beech- trees"  he  found  Miss  Belden 
there  alone,  and  almost  wild  with  apprehension.  A  few 
words  reassured  her  as  to  the  fate  of  her  father.  Of*what 

had  occurred  near  her,  she  knew  little  or  nothing,  except 
4 


50  SARATOGA. 

that  Lucile  had  departed  and  had  not  returned.  Tho 
untying  of  the  horses,  the  search  and  absence  of  M'Carty, 
and  the  absence  of  Lucile  were  the  facts.  How  far  the 
maniac  might  have  been  concerned  in  those  events,  was 
left  to  conjecture.  But  Walcott  knew  his  almost  diabol 
ical  ubiquity,  and  his  activity  in  evil ;  and  had  no  difficulty 
in  attributing  to  him,  most,  if  not  all,  of  those  untoward 
occurrences.  That  it  was  he  who  had  let  loose  the  horses, 
he  had  no  doubt.  What  had  become  of  M'Carty,  and  what 
had  befallen  Miss  Valcour,  were  very  different  questions. 
But  it  was  no  time  for  idle  conjecture.  If  any  thing 
serious  had  actually  occurred,  he  knew  himself  to  be  the 
one  most  likely  to  remedy  it.  So,  without  loss  of  time, 
he  made  his  way  in  the  direction  in  which  the  missing 
groom  and  his  young  mistress  had  disappeared. 

We  have,  thus  far,  neglected  to  state,  that  the  name  by 
which  the  lunatic  was  then  generally  known,  was  "  Crazy 
Jacob,"  or  "Wild  Jake;"  and  we  take  this  occasion  to 
adopt  it,  for  the  sake  of  greater  brevity  and  clearness  in 
our  narration. 

That  he  had  encountered  either  Lucile  or  M:Carty, 
Walcott  felt  very  confident,  from  the  outcries  which  h? 
had  heard.  Further  than  this  he  was,  for  the  present, 
unable  to  conjecture.  When  he  reached  the  spot  where 
the  others  had  paused  he  was,  like  them,  at  a  loss  how  to 
proceed.  While  hesitating  there  he  was  joined  by  Indian 
Joe.  Colonel  Belden,  faint  and  exhausted  as  he  was,  had 
met  and  remained  with  his  daughter.  Though  the  young 
man  and  the  guide  were  both,  for  a  moment,  at  fault,  the 
hound  kept  moving  rapidly  about  in  a  circle;  till  sud 
denly1  pausing,  and  looking  upward,  he  set  up  a  furious 
barking  at  some  object  overhead. 


THE    ABDUCTION.  51 

Turning  his  eyes  in  the  same  direction,  Walcott  saw 
the  body  of  M'Carty  suspended  from  a  small  tree,  motion 
less  and  apparently  lifeless.  To  cut  him  down  and  relieve 
him  from  his  precarious  position  was,  for  the  two  active 
men,  but  the  work  of  a  moment.  The  body  was  laid  upon 
the  grass ;  and  while  Walcott  felt  for  some  lingering  sign 
of  life,  he  directed  the  Indian  to  go  for  water.  In  the 
course  of  a  few  minutes,  M'Carty  slowly  and  painfully 
opened  his  eyes ;  but  it  was  fully  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
befomhe  was  able  to  speak.  It  seems  that  in  his  struggle 
in  the  tree,  the  thong  around  his  body  had  gradually 
tightened,  till  his  breathing  had  become  extremely  diffi 
cult;  and  lie  had,  at  last,  been  rendered  speechless, 
though  still  retaining  his  hearing  and  his  eye-sight. 
From  this  cause  he  had  been  unable  to  give  any  sign  of 
his  whereabouts ;  but  most  of  what  had  occurred  between 
Jacob  and  Lucile  he  had  witnessed. 

During  the  delay  which  was  necessary  for  his  full 
restoration  to  speech,  and  that  which  was  further  caused 
by  his  recital,  it  may  well  be  imagined  that  young  Wal 
cott  was  impatient  enough.  The  fate  of  the  young  girl, 
in  whom  he  already  felt  a  lively  interest,  was  still 
wrapped  in  uncertainty.  She  had  disappeared,  leaving 
no  present  trace  behind. 

"Then  you  have  no  idea,"  said  Walcott,  after  a  dili 
gent  cross-examination  of  M'Carty;  "you  have  no  idea 
what  direction  he  took  witli  her  after  he  started  ?" 

"  None  more  than  I  tolled  ye."  replied  the  other ;    "I 

'  was  n't  myself  in  no  condition  to  be  particular  sharp  about 

the  young  woman.     But,  so  near  as  I  could  judge,  tho 

varmint  made  off  toward  the  lake  ;  and  I  'm  afeard  it  'ill 

be  hard  tracking  him  through  the  fly." 


52  SARATOGA. 

"  It's  difficult  to  say  what  course  he  will  take,"  said 
Walcott,  thoughtfully ;  "  he  often  changes  his  niind ;  and 
sometimes  is  quite  as  apt  to  be  found  in  a  position  directly 
opposite  to  that  for  which  he  starts,  as  anywhere  else. 
But  did  he  show  any  signs  of  violence  with  her,  Jim  ?" 

"  None,  that  I  see,  on  t'  other  hand,  he  seemed  quite 
dumbfounded  when  he  first  laid  eyes  on  her.  I  did  n't 
hear  any  more  of  his  'tarnal  yellin',  which,  I  suppose,  he 
means  for  a  laugh ;  but  whether  I  grew  deaf,  or  he  grew 
dumb,  I  can't  say.  All  I  know  is  that  he  kept  his  eyes 
on  her,  and  carried  her  away  as  softly  as  a  kitten.  Away 
he  went  over  that  hummock  yonder,  and  clus  by  the  yal- 
ler  pine,  like  a  two-legged  moose.  Cuss  me,  if  I  think 
he's  human.  What  do  you  think  on't,  Joe?" 

Thus  addressed,  the  Indian,  laconically  replied : 

"  He  debbill." 

"  Well,  you  may  n't  be  far  off  the  trail  there  any  how," 
said  Jim  ;  "  but  what  I  want  is  to  meet  him  agin,  when 
he  can't  get  behind  me  to  take  an  onfair  advantage." 

During  this  colloquy,  Walcott  had  remained  silent  and 
musing.  He  now  interrupted  the  speakers,  saying  : 

"  It  won't  do  to  leave  her  in  his  power  a  minute  longer 
than  we  can  help.  He  may  at  any  moment  kill  her  in 
one  of  his  caprices.  He  might  even  take  it  into  his  head 
to  tie  her  up,  as  he  did  you,  M'Carty.  But,  I  suppose 
you  are  too  much  frightened  to  go  near  him  again?" 

"  Not,  if  I  know  my  own  mind,  Mr.  Arthur.  Do  you 
think  you  're  the  only  man  that  ain't  afeard  of  nothing  ? 
I'm  ready  to  start  this  minute.  Joe  there,  may  stay  be 
hind  with  the  colonel  and  his  da'ter.  You  jest  lead  off, 
and  we  '11  see  if  the  varmint  trees  me  agin  like  a  cussed 
raccoon." 


THE    ABDUCTION.  53 

Arthur  Walcott  was,  in  one  sense,  rash.  In  imminent 
danger,  he  acted  promptly ;  but  even  in  the  most  pressing 
circumstances,  he  did  not  act  unadvisedly.  Whatever  pre 
cipitancy  might  appear  in  his  conduct,  now  existed  in 
fact.  IJpon  occasions,  where  instant  action  was  indis 
pensable,  his  power  of  mind,  and  rapidity  of  combination, 
were  equal  to  the  emergency ;  and  his  plans  were  only 
developed  by  their  simultaneous  execution.  But  when  it 
was  not  necessary  to  act  on  the  instant ;  when  the  case 
admitted  of  reflection,  or  required  delay,  he  was  not  one 
to  omit  an  opportunity  of  coming  to  a  correct  conclusion. 
In  the  present  case,  therefore,  before  adopting  any  plan, 
he  took  tiir;e  for  reflection ;  since  pursuit  made  in  the 
wrong  direction  would  be  worse  than  useless ;  and  from 
some  experience  of  the  habits  of  Jacob,  he  had  arrived 
at  the  conclusion  that  it  was  not  always  safe  to  trust  to 
probabilities  or  appearances. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    SPRINGS    IN    1787. 

IN  those  days,  as  we  have  already  said,  Saratoga  was 
almost  a  wilderness.  It  is  true  that  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  from  where  Colonel  Belden  and  his  party  were  now 
assembled,  there  was  a  small  clearing  and  a  rude  hut, 
the  work  and  the  property  of  Indian  Joe,  the  guide.  The 
latter,  notwithstanding  his  thorough  aboriginal  habits, 
had  white  blood  flowing  in  his  veins ;  and  this  might  ex 
plain  his  partiality  for  something  like  a  garden  and  a  fixed 
abode.  The  rude  shelter  which  his  cabin  might,  in  the 
present  case  have  afforded,  was  uncalled  for,  as  Walcott 
knew  they  were  not  far  from  more  convenient  accommo 
dations,  and  had  made  up  his  mind  to  take  the  old  col 
onel  and  his  daughter  thither.  Since  the  first  adventure 
of  the  morning,  he  had  virtually  assumed  the  direction 
of  all  their  movements.  He  was  unwilling  to  expose 
them  for  a  second  time  to  the  hazard  of  meeting  with  the 
maniac ;  and  he  could  not  very  well  leave  them  unshel 
tered  even  for  the  coming  night.  It  would  also  probably 
be  useless  to  attempt  tracking  the  fugitive  during  the 
darkness.  He  therefore  determined  to  place  the  old  man 
and  Marion  in  safety  for  the  present,  and  to  commence 
the  search  as  soon  after  as  practicable. 


THE    SPRINGS    IN    1787.  55 

During  the  fatigues  and  excitements  of  the  recent 
events,  the  day  had  insensibly  worn  away,  and  was  now 
fast  verging  toward  nightfall.  It  was  therefore  prudent 
to  take  immediate  steps  to  procure  some  proper  place  of 
shelter. 

Having  succeeded  in  recovering  the  horses,  which  had 
not  strayed  very  far,  the  whole  group  began  slowly  to 
move  northward  along  the  western  side  of  the  valley,  fol 
lowing  the  woodland  path  so  often  mentioned.  To  the 
left,  the  ground  was  rough  and  rocky,  and  rose  with  a 
gradual  ascent.  It  was  everywhere  covered  with  large, 
old  trees,  the  views  between  which  were  not  interrupted 
by  any  undehvood.  To  the  right,  as  they  went  along, 
still  lay  the  narrow  swale  or  marsh. 

After  proceeding  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  or  more,  they 
began  to  perceive  signs  of  the  vicinity  of  some  sort  of 
habitations.  The  distant  barking  of  dogs  was  heard. 
Presently  they  could  occasionally  see  an  Indian  boy  gazing 
at  them,  with  his  great  round  eyes,  from  behind  some  dis 
tant  tree.  He  betrayed  thus  early  the  instincts  and 
habits  of  his  race:  He  was  not  noisy  and  prattling  like 
the  child  of  the  white  man ;  but  taciturn,  shy,  and  watch 
ful.  The  everlasting  bow  and  arrow  seemed  inseparable 
from  him.  Its  practice  was  the  education  of  all.  The 
forest  was  their  only  university ;  and  the  young  savages 
grew  up  to  ta.ke  their  degrees,  not  on  scrolls  of  parchment, 
but  in  deer's  hide  and  bear-skin. 

Presently  the  travelers  came  to  a  more  open  place ; 
and  here  was  seen,  at  a  short  distance  ahead,  a  small 
clearing,  and  a  large  log-house.  Further  on,  arid  up  the 
slope  to  the  left,  were  some  twenty  or  thirty  wigwams.  It 
was,  in  fact,  a  sort  of  Indian  town  which  they  approached. 


56  SARATOGA. 

Here  were  visible  all  the  various  and  picturesque  objects 
which  characterize  such  scenes.  The  men  were  grouped 
together  in  lazy  clusters,  either  dozing  upon  the  ground, 
or  sitting  in  sluggish  silence,  leading  just  the  life  of  un 
occupied  animals.  The  women  were  busied  with  the 
various  labors  of  their  position,  making  or  staining  bask 
ets,  cooking  their  rude  meals,  hanging  out  strips  of  meat 
to  dry,  or  working  upon  gayly-fringed  moccasins. 

It  was  not,  however,  toward  the  cluster  of  wigwams 
that  our  party  continued  its  way.  The  log-house,  which 
stood  in  the  clearing,  and  on  the  verge  of  the  valley, 
seemed  to  be  their  point  of  destination. 

On  coming  nearer,  it  was  found  to  be  a  huge  four-sided 
edifice,  constructed  of  round  logs,  rendered  impenetrable 
to  the  weather  by  wedging  and  plastering.  Its  roof  was 
composed  of  long  poles  covered  with  strips  of  bark,  and 
its  chimney  of  rough  stone,  laid  up  in  mortar.  At  one 
side,  and  a  little  away  from  it,  was  a  large  shed  of  hem 
lock  bushes  and  poles,  which  answered  the  purpose  of  a 
stable.  Here  the  horses  of  the  new  comers  were,  shortly 
afterward,  bestowed  with  such  care  for  their  comfort,  as 
circumstances  admitted.  At  the  door  of  the  cabin  itself, 
the  guests  were  met  with  a  sort  of  reception  which  did 
not  partake,  either  of  the  obsequiousness  of  the  modern 
publican,  or  the  churlish  ungraciousness  of  a  man  receiv 
ing  unwelcome  company.  In  those  days,  it  was  the  cus 
tom  to  receive  and  entertain  freely  all  who  required 
shelter ;  and  the  act  was  neither  a  condescension  or  an 
homage.  Their  arrival,  therefore,  excited  no  remark. 
No  extraordinary  movements  were  perceptible  in  conse 
quence  of  it.  In  the  mean  time,  night  had  begun  to  set 
in  as  they  approached. 


THE    SPRINGS    IN    1787.  57 

By  the  side  of  the  entrance,  on  a  log  which  answered 
the  purpose  of  a  bench,  sat  a  man  in  his  shirt-sleeves, 
quietly  smoking  a  pipe.  He  gave  directions  to  a  negro 
about  the  horses,  and  rose  up  as  the  old  man  and  his 
daughter  came  to  the  door. 

"  Them  cattle,  I  take  it,"  he  said,  "  ain't  had  no  great 
matter  of  traveling  to-day,  eh  !  squire?" 

" None  to  speak  of,"  replied  Colonel  Belden,  "but  we 
ourselves  feel  a  little  fatigued,  and  would  be  much  obliged 
to  you  for  such  accommodations  as  you  can  give  us." 

Upon  hearing  the  sound  of  the  other's  voice,  the  man 
suddenly  pullod  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  after  looking 
at  the  colonel  steadily  for  some  time,  took  off  his  cap  re 
spectfully,  saying : 

"  Your  sarvent,  captain;  I  did  n't  at  first  know  you; 
these  still  times  so  alter  a  man.  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

"  Eh,  what?"  exclaimed  the  old  colonel,  looking  sharply 
at  his  interlocutor,  in  his  turn;  "whom  have  we  here? 
Upon  my  word,  I  think  it's  Brigham?  Why  my  old 
friend,  how  do  you  do  ?" 

"Who  would  have  thought  of  meeting  you  here? 
Marion,  this  is  one  of  my  old  soldiers  of '77.  I  am  in 
debted  to  him  for  many  an  important  service.  But, 
Brigham,  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  you've  turned  land 
lord  again?" 

"Yes,  but  I  do  tho',  captain;  a  man  must  turn  his 
hand  to  any  thing,  when  the  campaign  is  over,  you  know." 

"Why,  I  should  have  thought,  Brigham,  that  services 
like  yours  would  have  put  you  in  a  position  to  live  at 
your  ease.  What  I  did  was  no  great  matter,  you  know ; 
and  yet  they  have  given  me  a  colonel's  commission  for 
it." 


58  SARATOGA. 

"  And  bow  much  pay  does  that  bring  you  now'/"  quietly 
asked  Brigham. 

"As  for  that,"  replied  the  colonel,  "why  no  great 
matter — nothing  at  all,  in  fact ;  but  then  the  honor,  you 
know." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  the  other,  "but  in  the  way  of 
getting  a  living,  I  don't  see  that  your  services  have  been 
any  better  paid  for  than  mine.  Hows' ever  such  is  the 
fortune  of  war,  captain,  or  rather  colonel,  since  they  have 
made  you  one,  which  I'm  glad  to  hear.  But  I  never 
counted  my  little  enterprises  as  any  great  thing.  I  would 
do  the  same  over  again  just  for  the  fun  of  the  thing.  You 
know  I  was  always  fond  of  running  a  little  risk." 

While  this  dialogue  was  going  on,  the  rest  of  the  party 
had  dismounted,  and  passed  into  the  rude  hostelry.  The 
building  was  divided  into  two  compartments,  nearly  equal 
in  size.  The  first,  or  ante-room,  like  the  other,  occupied 
the  whole  width  of  the  house.  Beyond  it,  was  the  inner 
apartment  or  with  drawing-room,  which,  as  it  appeared, 
was  set  apart  as  the  place  in  which  any  female  guests  who 
might  be  present,  were  to  be  accommodated.  In  the  outer 
room,  the  meals  were  not  only  taken,  but  cooked;  and 
when  the  tables  were  cleared,  the  apartment  was  turned 
into  a  bed-room.  The  simple  habits,  and  the  narrow  cir 
cumstances  of  the  occupants,  rendered  this  arrangement 
convenient  and  proper.  Whatever  could  serve  as  a  shelter 
from  the  rain,  was  then  deemed  a  fit  place  for  eating  and 
sleeping. 

The  men,  as  a  matter  of  course,  paused  in  the  outer 
room,  and  began  to  make  themselves  at  home.  Coats  and 
hats  were  doffed  and  hung  on  huge  hooks  or  spikes  of  iron, 
driven  into  the  timbers  of  the  building.  Suspended  over  the 


THE    SPRINGS    IN    1787.  59 

back  of  a  maple  chair,  was  an  iron  candlestick,  in  which 
was  burning  a  tallow  candle,  that  shed  but  a  faint  and 
flickering  light  through  the  apartment. 

While  M'Carty  had  been  busy  providing  for  the  com 
fort  of  the  quadrupeds,  Indian  Joe,  true  to  his  savage 
instincts,  had  quietly  declined  sharing  in  the  menial  serv 
ices,  and  walked  with  the  gentlemen,  into  the  house. 

Colonel  Belden  and  Walcott  speedily  informed  Brigham 
of  the  painful  suspense  under  which  they  were  laboring 
in  regard  to  the  disappearance  and  fate  of  Lucile  Yalcour ; 
and,  as  they  had  expected,  he  immediately  took  a  lively 
interest  hi  the,,  affair. 

"You  must  know,  colonel,"  he  said,  "that  I  always 
thought  crazy  Jake  would  end  by  doing  some  great  mis 
chief,  and  I've  often  tried  to  secure  him,  but  all  to  no 
purpose.  Where  on  arth  he  has  gone  to  now,  there's  no 
tellin'.  Hows'ever,  if  Arthur  here  (hitching  his  elbow 
toward  Walcott)  will  go  with  me  to-morrow  morning, 
I'm  agreeable  to  have  one  push  after  the  old  varmint. 
But  we'll  have  to  make  an  arly  start,  as  the  old  chap,  to 
my  sartain  knowledge,  gets  up  considerable  soon  himself, 
and  we  must  nab  him  afore  he  smells  us  over  the  dew." 

"  Start  as  early  as  you  like,  my  friend,"  said  Walcott, 
"  and  I  will  be  ready.  In  fact  I  would  go  now,  if  it 
would  do  any  good." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Brigham,  "there's  no  use  in  being  off 
yet.  The  moon  isn't  up  till  near  three  in  the  morning ; 
and  as  for  going  off  through  the  woods  in  the  dark,  wo 
might  as  well  stay  where  we  are,  for  Catfoot  himself 
couldn't  follcr  game  without  something  in  the  way  of 
eyesight." 

"Well,    Brigham.   my  old  friend,"  replied  f1^1— «l 


60  SARATOGA. 

Belden,  "  manage  it  your  own  way.  Only  I  wish  you  to 
understand  that  in  this  business.  I  take  success  particularly 
to  heart ;  for  I  would  as  soon  leave  my  own  body  lifeless 
in  the  woods,  as  to  go  back  to  Jules  Valcour  without  his 
child." 

Soon  after,  preparations  having  already  been  made  for 
that  purpose,  supper  was  served  up  for  the  guests  on  a 
long  table  of  pine,  set  out  in  the  middle  of  the  room.*  It 
is  needless  to  detail  the  various  preliminary  operations 
which  met  the  eye  of  the  travelers,  and  which  forcibly 
impressed  upon  them  the  fact,  that  they  were  already  a 
little  removed  from  the  comfortable  habits  of  well-organ 
ized  society.  It  is  enough  to  know  that  the  preparations 
'  were  at  length  achieved. 

Grateful  to  the  appetite  as  may  be  the  dishes  which  are 
sometimes  spread  before  the  well  exercised  sportsman, 
after  a  hard  day's  chase ;  we  doubt  whether  the  most  ex 
hilarating  hunt  could  give  a  keener  appetite  than  that 
which  certain  of  our  party  brought  to  the  discussion  of 
their  evening  meal.  In  true  democratic  style,  all  sat  at 
the  same  board ;  though,  as  in  all  democracies,  there  was 
still  a  distinction.  One  end  of  the  table,  was,  even  there, 
looked  upon  as  especially  to  be  honored.  There  was  no 
dais,  and  no  canopy,  yet  good  manners  and  gentle 
breeding,  on  the  one  hand,  gave  a  separate  position ;  and 
on  the  other  hand,  natural  respect  and  deference,  accorded 
a  tacit  superiority  to  those  whose  previous  position  and 
habits  had  qualified  them  for  maintaining  such  an 
ascendency. 

During  the  meal,  little  was  said  by  any  of  the  party. 
Marion  Belden  was  too  much  excited,  and  at  the  same 
time,  too  much  exhausted,  by  recent  occurrences,  to 


THE    SPRINGS    IN    1787.  61 

partake,  except  in  a  very  slight  degree,  of  the  food  placed 
before  her.  Anxiety  also  prevailed  in  the  hearts  of  her 
father,  and  of  Walcott.  The  mind  of  the  latter  was  im 
patiently  husy  with  thoughts  and  devices  for  the  morrow. 
Brigham  was  moving  about  the  premises,  sometimes 
within,  and  sometimes  without  the  building ;  and  occupied 
with  the  various  little  cares  of  his  establishment,  or  the 
weightier  duties  of  a  host. 

"  Why,  here  comes  little  Jim  M'Carty  as  sure  as  I  am 
alive,"  said  he,  as  the  groom,  after  having  made  proper 
provision  for  the  horses,  now  entered  the  apartment  to 
take  his  place  at  the  table  with  the  others. 

"It's  me  for  sartain,  Sandy  Brigham;  and  there's 
nothing  so  very  wonderful  about  that,  I  take  it." 

"  Yes  there  is,  though,  Jim,"  replied  Brigham ;  "for  no 
body  has  hearn  on  ye,  since  you  was  carried  off  by  the  Wine- 
dots  (so  he  pronounced  Wyandottes),  just  arter  the  war." 

"  Well,  it's  true,"  said  M'Carty,  seating  himself,  and 
commencing  his  meal  without  ceremony.  "It's  true, 
them  varmints  did  do  something  like  what  you  say ;  but 
I  made  up  my  mind  not  to  go  with  'em  clean  to  the  lines ; 
and  so  I  gin  'em  the  slip  one  fine  morning  near  the 
Sawble  (Ausable)  Forks." 

"  But  how  did  it  all  happin,  Jim  ?  I  thought  you  was 
too  sly  for  any  redskin  to  get  hold  on.  Tell  us  all  about 
it.  You  and  I  used  to  conceit  we  understood  the  cun 
ning  ceremony  of  the  critters  as  well  as  any  body." 

Brigham  now  flung  himself  down  upon  a  large  wooden 
chest,  to  hear  M'Carty's  account  of  the  adventure.  As 
for  the  others,  they  were  too  busy  with  thoughts  of  their 
own  to  pay  much  heed  to  what  was  said.  M'Carty,  with 
many  interruptions,  caused  by  the  necessary  business  of 


62  SARATOGA. 

eating,  then  gave  something  like  the  following  account  of 
his  capture  and  escape. 

"  Why,  you  see,  the  way  it  happened  was  jest  this. 
You  remember  there  was  parties  of  them  British  Injuns 
hangin'  about  for  a  while  arter  the  war  was  done.  How- 
s'ever,  when  some  months  had  passed  over,  without  any 
scalps  being  lost,  the  country  folks  began  to  think  there 
was  no  more  risk,  and  to  go  back  to  their  clearing*  I 
happened,  about  that  time,  to  be  down  Fish  Creek  with 
some  pelts ;  and  General  Schuyler  wanted  me  to  go  out 
with  his  gals  and  some  chaps  up  from  Albany,  on  a  visit 
to  Quakers'  Springs — them  salt  licks,  you  know,  'tother 
side  the  lake,  near  Bemis's.  Well,  when  they  started,  I 
was  for  takin'  the  gun  along,  knowin'  how  things  was 
with  the  savages  better  than  they  did ;  but  they  downright 
laughed  me  out  on't ;  so  between  their  jokes  and  the  heat 
of  the  weather,  I  left  the  shootin'  iron  behind.  We  fol 
lowed  the  old  army  track  through  the  woods,  all  on  'em 
bein'  mounted  but  me.  As  I  knew  every  foot  of  the 
ground,  I  nat'r'lly  led  the  way.  They  came  on,  laughin' 
and  jokin' ;  and  laid  out  to  have  a  knick-knack,  or  some- 
thin'  of  that  kind,  when  they  got  to  the  Springs.  As 
we  come  up  within  a  mile  or  so  of  the  spot,  I  begun  to 
notice  marks  in  the  path  which  I  did  n't  at  all  like  the 
look  on'.  I  know  it's  hard  tellin'  a  Huron's  trail  from 
an  Oneida's ;  but  I  h\d  had  some  experience  that  way, 
and  from  what  I  saw,  I  begun  to  wish  I  had  brought 
the  rifle  along,  in  spite  of  their  jokes.  Howsoever, 
the  trail  led  straight  ahead,  whoever  made  it;  and  I 
thought  it  was  likely  the  savages  themselves,  if  so  bo 
there  was  any  of  'em  about,  hadn't  any  notion  of  our 
party  being  near.  Acting  on  this  idea,  I  kept  carefully 


MCARTY'S    ADVENTURE.  08 

ahead,  dctarmined  to  keep  a  sharp  look  out.  I  know'd 
the  gineral  would  expect  me  to  bring  back  his  gals,  safe 
and  sound,  or  I  would  never  he'r  the  last  on't.  So  I  just 
cautioned  the  young  folks  to  make  a  little  less  noise,  and 
told  'em  what  I  thought  was  in  the  wind.  This  only 
made  'em  laugh  the  more ;  and  they  rode  along,  singin' 
and  shoutin'  like  mad.  They  war  a  high  set,  I  tell  you. 
There  '11  be  a  devil's  dance  soon,  and  somebody  will  have 
to  pay  the  piper ;  but  let  'em  laugh  as  wins,  thinks  I, 
and  says  no  more.  Well,  whether  the  redskins  were  too 
for  off,  or  whether  they  only  played  shy,  nothin'  on  'em 
did  we  see  while  goin'.  We  got  to  the  spring,  and  all 
the  things  was  spread  out  on  the  grass ;  and  they  begun 
to  eat.  Up  to  this  pint  the  trail  had  been  strong ;  and 
there  was  every  sign  that  a  party  of  Injuns  had  been 
about.  I  judged  there  might  be  seven  or  eight  of  'em  at 
least. 

"  Leaving  the  young  folks  to  enj'y  themselves,  I  thought 
Fd  jest  take  a  turn  in  the  neighborhood,  and  see  what  had 
become  of  the  Hurons,  if  Hurons  they  was.  As  I  went 
quietly  along  a  path,  I  caught  sight  of  somethin'  browp 
poppin'  behin'  a  fallin  tree  to  the  right;  but  it  did  n't 
get  out  of  sight  before  I  diskivered  it  to  be  an  Injun 
head.  I  never  let  on,  but  made  as  if  nothin'  had  hap 
pened,  and  walked  steadily  for'd,  lookin'  carelessly  about 
me.  For  all  that,  I  took  good  care  to  go  no  further 
tiian  a  rod  or  so ;  when,  turnin'  coolly  around,  I  strolled 
back.  In  wheelin'  about  sudden  like,  what  should  I 
catch  a  glimpse  on,  but  the  leg  of  another  savage  around 
the  edge  of  a  small  white  pine,  clus  to  the  track.  Thinks 
1*  to  myself,  this  is  gcttin'  rather  warm ;  may  be  tho 
whole  gang  is  skulkin'  about  within  a  stone's  throw.  At 
'  41 


64  SARATOGA. 

that  minute,  I  was  somcthin'  like  thirty  rods  or  so,  from 
where  the  rest  on  'em  was  takin'  their  refreshment.  As 
good  luck  would  have  it,  the  ground  'twixt  was  open; 
so  that  they  were  in  clear  sight ;  and  I  calc'lated  they 
would  have  no  trouble  in  seein'  me,  on  a  pinch.  I  still 
made  as  if  I  saw  nothin',  but  detarmined,  as  soon  as  I 
was  a  little  more  clear,  to  give  the  alarm,  and  make  a  run 
of  it  for  myself.  I  was  a  little  nonplushcd  to  find  they 
let  me  quietly  go  on ;  and  so  begun  to  suspect  some  trick. 
Sure  enough,  in  a  moment  arter,  I  sees  a  tall  feller,  every 
minute  or  so,  when  he  thought  I  wasn't  lookin',  glidin' 
from  one  cover  to  another,  in  the  direction  of  the  party 
of  young  folks.  The  game  was  plain  enough  now.  They 
wanted  to  catch  the  whole  on  us. 

"  There  was  n't  a  second  to  be  lost.  If  I  gave  alarm  at 
once,  the  young  folks  might  have  time  to  mount  and  get 
away  before  the  Injuns  could  come  up.  But  in  that  case, 
it  was  putty  clear  that  I  myself  would  have  to  be  nabbed. 
But  there  was  no  other  way ;  so,  jumpin'  on  a  big  stone 
in  the  middle  of  the  path,  I  gives  a  screech  loud  enough 
to  wake  the  dead.  It  turned  out  jist  as  I  expected.  The 
Injuns  at  once  jumped  from  their  hiding-places,  and  what 
between  my  yell  and  the  sight  of  the  redskins  makin' 
toward  them,  the  young  men  understood  it  all  in  a  jiffy. 
They  got  on  horseback  in  no  time,  the  Injuns  arter  them 
at  a  keen  jump,  and  thanks  to  the  open  army  road,  they 
soon  left  the  redskins  far  enough  behind. 

"As  soon  as  I  saw  this,  thinks  I  to  myself,  this  time 
the  gineral  can 't  say  but  what  I  did  my  best.  Mean 
while  as  long  as  the  savages  thought  there  was  a  chance 
of  catchin'  the  rest,  they  did  n't  seem  to  mind  me ;  maybe 
they  thought  I  was  sure  game  enough  any  how.  We 


MCCARTY'S  ADVENTURE.  65 

differed  a  little  in  opinion  on  that  pint.  I  never  yet  knew 
even  a  Mohawk,  who  could  outrun  me  in  an  open  woods. 
So  when  they  begun  to  turn  and  make  preparations  to  get 
me  in  their  clutches,  I  quietly  pulls  out  my  jack-knife, 
and  rips  down  the  legs  of  my  leather  breeches  to  near  the 
bottom,  both  fore  and  aft,  as  a  sailor  might  say ;  and  then, 
arter  a  full  consideration  of  my  course,  I  made  tracks. 
This,  at  once,  brought  the  whole  pack  of  yellow  wolves 
howlin'  at  my  heels.  Instead  of  goin'  toward  Schuyler's 
I  took  the  other  trail  tor'd  the  narrows,  where  I  calc'lated 
to  dodge  the  critters  by  takin'  to  water.  Almost  anywhere 
down  the  creek,  I  fancied  they  could  wade,  and  that  I 
would  not  stand  so  good  a  chance  of  fallin'  in  with  help. 
Some  Oneidas  was  ginerally  foun'  near  the  outlet,  fish- 
in'  ;  and  if  they  saw  the  tuft  of  a  Huron's  scalp,  they 
would  n't  sleep  till  it  hung  at  their  belt.  Besides  that,  I 
began  to  think  they  would  n't  fire  at  me  for  fear  the  re 
port  might  awaken  inconvenient  'tention.  They  was  in 
the  midst  of  an  inemy's  country. 

"As  the  race  was  likely  to  be  one  of  some  length,  I 
thought  best  not  to  put  forth  my  greatest  speed  on  the 
start.  The  savages  are  famous  for  their  wind,  and  though 
I  knowed  I  would  leave  'em  far  behind  in  a  short  run,  I 
felt  some  oneasiness  as  to  the  upshot  of  this  long  one. 
Hows'ever,  away  we  went,  and  I  just  kept  them  their 
distance  behind,  knowin'  that  until  I  should  tire  out,  I 
could  leave  'em  at  any  moment.  To  my  surprise,  while 
I  was  tryin'  exper'ments  on  their  speed,  one  short  feller 
seemed  to  keep  the  same  distance  whether  I  went  fast  or 
slow.  To  put  him  to  the  proof,  I  then  went  at  the  top  of 
my  speed  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes ;  but  I  found  to  my 
sorrow,  that  he  kept  as  near  me  as  ever.  That  means 


66  SARATOGA. 

somethin',  thought  I,  for  if  the  villin  wasn't  sure  of 
catchin'  me  somewhere,  he  would,  most  likely,  have  tried 
to  come  up  with  me  before. 

"  In  the  course  of  half  an  hour  I  came  in  sight  of  the 
Lake,  and  shaped  my  course  for  that  part  of  the  outlet,  to 
which  I  knew  the  friendly  Injuns  was  in  the  habit  of 
goin'.  For  half  a  mile,  before  reachin'  the  water,  the 
ground  was  low,  and  covered  with  thick  bushes.  Into 
this  thicket  I  made  my  way  as  best  I  could,  trying  to 
shape  my  course,  so  as  to  throw  the  Injuns  out,  if  pos 
sible.  I  met  with  no  trouble  in  soon  gittin'  to  the  side 
of  the  water,  and  begin  to  think  it  was  all  right,  when 
all  along  the  shore,  beneath  the  bushes,  for  ten  rods  or 
more  just  in  front  of  where  I  came  out,  a  long  file  of 
Injuns  riz  mp.  They  had  laid  hid  among  the  reeds  and 
bushes,  and  completely  barred  my  way.  For  some  time 
back,  also,  without  my  noticin'  it,  the  short  chap  behind 
had  been  gamin'  upon  me ;  so  that  durin'  my  confusion 
at  sight  of  the  trouble  ahead,  he  came  up,  and  almost  be 
fore  I  had  made  up  my  mind  what  to  do,  he  coolly  laid 
his  left  hand  on  my  arm,  while,  in  his  other  hand,  he 
swung  a  long-handled,  bright-edged  tomahaAvk,  with 
which  he  made  circles  over  my  head.  I  felt  queer-like. 
But  in  a  twinklin'  I  was  surrounded  by  the  others,  who 
seemed  astonished  as  they  came  up,  but  said  nothin'.  By 
signs,  they  soon  gave  me  to  understan',  that  the  least 
noise  would  cost  me  my  scalp.  I  did  n't  want  to  sell  it 
at  that  price,  and  so  kept  still.  But,  all  the  while,  I 
could  see  across  the  outlet,  and  not  more  than  five  hun 
dred  feet  from  where  we  stood  under  the  shelter  of  the 
alder  bushes,  several  of  our  own  Injuns  quietly  fishin'  on 
the  other  shore.  The  temptation  to  blow  out  was  strong 


M'C  ARTY'S  ADVENTURE.  67 

but  as  my  very  winks  was  noticed,  I,  of  course,  did  n't 
dare  to  think  on't. 

"  Well,  the  long  and  short  on  it  was,  that  they  hid  in 
the  bushes  till  dark,  when  they  pulled  out  some  light 
canoes  that  lay  under  the  bank,  and  dropped  down  the 
stream ;  so  that  by  daylight,  we  was  far  enough  on  the 
road  to  Canada." 

"  But,  Jim,"  said  Brigham ;  "  did  n't  the  gineral  send 
scouts  to  see  what  had  become  of  you?" 

"  To  be  sure  he  did,  but  as  we  had  taken  the  route  by 
Skenesborough,  and  not  by  Lake  George,  they  found 
nothin' ;  and  after  sarchin'  a  few  days,  they  finally  con 
cluded  it  was  nJt  likely  anything  more  than  a  lock  of  my  hair 
was  travelin'  toward  Canada,  while  the  rest  of  me  was 
takin'  a  rest  in  the  woods." 

"A  lock  of  your  hair,  sir?"  said  Colonel  Belden,  who 
for  some  time  had  been  listening ;  "  what  do  you  mean  by 
that?" 

To  this  M'Carty  replied  by  making  a  significant  motion 
with  his  table-knife  around  his  own  scalp. 

"  But,"  interposed  Walcott,  for  the  first  time  joining 
in  the  conversation;  "were  you  quite  sure  that  your 
young  ladies  and  their  friends  got  back  to  Schuyler's 
without  meeting  with  any  further  trouble  ?" 

"  Sartainly  not,"  replied  M'Carty.  "  How  should  I  ? 
But  arterward  I  heerd  that  they  was  waylaid  by  another 
branch  of  the  Huron  gang,  and  that  the  young  fellers  had 
to  shoot  two  or  tree  on  'em  with  their  pocket-pistols 
before  they  got  off;  but  I  never  heerd  the  particulars 
on  it." 

the  conversation  began  to  flag,  and  after  a  littlo 
Iroppcd.     Colonel   Belden  took  that  occasion  to 


68  SARATOGA. 

withdraw.  His  daughter  had  done  so  some  time  before. 
The  old  gentleman,  however,  before  laying  down  for  the 
night,  came  back  to  consult  about  the  proceedings  for  the 
morrow,  as  his  anxiety  was  so  great  as  almost  to  destroy 
any  disposition  to  sleep. 

"Then  you  say,  Brigham,"  he  remarked,  addressing 
the  latter;  "that  you  are  willing  to  join  in  this  search 
yourself?" 

"  Sartainly,  colonel ;  that's  what  we're  agreed  on;  and 
we  must  be  off,  as  I  said,  just  as  soon  as  the  moonlight 
will  let  us.  But  I've  been  thinkin'  whether  we  couldn't 
get  some  of  the  Oneidas  or  Mohawks  up  in  the  village  to 
jine  us.  There's  a  chap  or  two  there  with  an  uncommon 
keen  scent,  Indian  Joe  is  good,  but  he  won't  answer  in 
the  present  case.  We  want  some  one  with  the  nose  of  a 
hound,  and  the  cunnin'  of  a  fox.  I  think  I'll  jist  step 
out  and  see  if  Catfoot  has  got  back  from  his  moose-hunt  to 
the  north.  I  won't  be  gone  long.  If  we  get  him,  the 
business  will  be  sure." 

So  saying,  Brigham  went  out  of  the  cabin,  on  his  pro 
jected  errand ;  and  Walcott,  after  some  urging,  induced 
the  colonel  to  lie  down  and  endeavor  to  get  a  little 
rest. 

As  good  luck  would  have  it,  Brigham  found  the 
Indian  whom  he  had  designated  as  Catfoot,  within  his 
wigwam,  to  which  he  had  apparently  just  returned. 
There  was  a  haunch  of  venison  slung  upon  a  pole  in 
the  corner;  and  some  fine  moose-steaks  were  already 
broiling  on  the  coals  of  a  fire  built  against  a  largo 
stone  outside. 

The  chieftain,  for  such  was  his  rank  in  the  tribe,  had  a 
countenance  at  once  impressive  and  inscrutable.  His  air 


CATFOOT.  69 

was  listless,  and  his  whole  manner  quiet  and  composed, 
as  he  reclined  upon  a  pile  of  skins  within  the  hut.  But, 
though  his  face  in  the  rigidity  of  its  muscles,  and  the 
smoothness  of  the  skin  was  like  bronze,  his  quick,  bright, 
uneasy  eye,  gave  to  him  still  the  appearance  of  possessing 
an  active,  wide-awake  mind;  and  contradicted  the  im 
pression  made  by  his  motionless  body.  Brigham  walked 
into  the  wigwam,  which  was  lighted  by  a  small  bunch  of 
pine-knots,  and,  with  the  freedom  of  an  old  acquaintance, 
said,  as  he  seated  himself : 

"Well,  Catfoot,  I  see  you've  had  plently  of  luck  this 
time.  Did  you  have  to  go  far  arter  that  moose  ?" 

While  asking  this  question,  Brigham  pulled  out  a  short 
pipe,  filled  it  with  tobacco,  lighted,  and  handed  it  to  his 
friend ;  after  which  he  produced  and  prepared  another  for 
himself.  The  Indian  took  the  pipe  quietly,  and  after  a 
few  whiffs,  replied  : 

"  'Cross  Lake  George."  Then  pointing  to  the  saddle 
of  venison,  continued,  looking  at  Brigham.  "  Take 
him." 

"  Thankee,  Catfoot,  I'll  take  a  slice  or  so  when  I  go ; 
and  in  particular,  because  you  and  I  may  want  it  to 
morrow." 

Upon  hearing  this,  the  eye  of  the  Indian  was  turned 
with  quick  curiosity  upon  his  companion;  but  he  said 
nothing,  and  Brigham  continued  : 

"  The  fact  is,  Catfoot,  them  strangers  down  at  my 
house  are  old  friends,  and  have  got  into  a  scrape  about  a 
gal  that  came  along  with  them  from  Balltown.  Crazy 
Jake,  that  you  know  of,  has  took  her  off,  and  gone  down 
into  the  mash,  or  to  some  other  hidin' -place,  and  they 
want  us  to  find  him  and  bring  the  gal  back." 


70  SARATOGA. 

"  Where  you  tink  him  hide  ?"  asked  the  Indian. 

"  Why,  between  you  and  me,"  replied  Brigham,  eva 
sively  ;  "  that's  been  the  reason  of  a  good  deal  of  thinking 
with  me.  Old  Jake  is  a  cunnin'  varmint,  for  all  his 
shakiness  about  the  head;  and  I've  known  him  afore  now 
to  throw  sharper  eyes  than  ourn  off  the  trail.  He  got  her 
this  arternoon  near  the  lower  clearin',  and  he  started  to 
ward  the  lake.  That's  all  I  know,  though,  of  course,  I 
have  my  notions  besides." 

"What  you  call  notions,  eh?"  pursued  the  Indian, 
puffing  away  steadily  at  his  pipe. 

"My  notions,  Catfoot,  is  my  own  private  thoughts; 
though  not  being  well  worked  up  yet,  they  ain't  worth 
mentioning.  But,  I  reckon,  you'll  have  no  objections  to 
go  with  me  in  sarch  of  the  runaways  ?" 

To  this  Catfoot  replied  :  "  Good  ;  go  when  you  ready." 

"So  I  thought,"  replied  his  companion;  "so  that's 
settled;  but  we'll  have  to  be  off  awhile  before  day 
light" 

As  Brigham  knew  his  Indian  friend  was  no  great 
hand  at  upholding  his  end  of  a  conversation,  he  soon 
after  took  his  departure,  with  the  understanding  that  all 
were  to  be  at  his  house,  prepared  to  start,  an  hour  or  so 
before  sunrise. 

The  night  was  a  quiet  one.  As  Brigham  walked  back, 
enabled  to  pick  his  way  by  the  dull  light  of  the  stars,  the 
air  was  serene  and  still,  except  as  it  was  disturbed  by  the 
numberless  voices  of  insects,  toads,  and  other  like  tenants 
of  the  woods.  Occasionally,  also,  high  overhead,  could  be 
heard  the  cry  of  the  night-hawk,  as  he  pursued  his  spiral 
circles  in  the  sky ;  or  the  loud,  rushing  sound  of  his  wings, 
as,  after  diving  for  a  fly  or  a  bug,  he  suddenly  arrested  his 


BRIGHAM.  71 

downward  career,  and  resumed  his  spiral  upward  oourso 
to  attain  another  elevation.  Now  and  then  could  be  heard 
voices,  calling  from  the  neighboring  huts ;  or  the  low  song 
of  the  Indian  mother,  as  she  hushed  her  children  to  sleep 
beneath  the  waving  and  murmuring  pines.  The  sweet 
ness  of  that  simple  melody  might,  perhaps,  have  arrested 
the  attention  of  ears  more  delicate  than  Brigham  pos 
sessed  ;  but  custom  had  made  him  indifferent  to  such 
sounds ;  and  a  life  passed  upon  a  wild,  disturbed  frontier, 
had  not  inclined  him  to  gentle  sentiments,  or  given  him  a 
poetical  taste. 

The  valley,  before  spoken  of,  on  the  margin  of  which 
the  Bock  spring  was  located,  stretched  its  dark  belt  in 
front  of  Brigham,  as  he  returned  to  his  house.  At  that 
hour,  it  was  to  the  eye  one  dense,  impenetrable  mass  of 
brake  and  bush. 

Though  he  had  long  been  accustomed  to  situations  in 
which  great  care  and  constant  address  were  required, 
yet  the  morrow's  undertaking  was  one  wherein  his  pre 
vious  habits  and  experience  could  not  be  of  their  usual 
avail.  Besides,  though  he  had  every  confidence  in  the 
sagacity  and  skill  of  his  friend,  Catfoot,  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  he  well  knew  the  superstitious  awe  with 
which  the  aborigines  regarded  those  who  were  afflicted 
with  aberration  or  imbecility  of  mind ;  and  he  had  his 
doubts  as  to  how  the  conduct  of  his  associate  might,  in 
the  present  case,  be  affected  by  it.  A  few  rods  to  the 
southward  of  where  the  log-house  stood,  the  western  side 
of  the  valley  was  quite  abrupt ;  and  in  descending  into 
it  there,  it  was  necessary  to  avail  one's  self  of  a  fallen 
tree,  which  had  been  uprooted  on  the  brink,  and  had 
dropped  so  as  to  lie  inclined  down  the  slope.  On  both  sides 


72  SARATOGA. 

of  it  were  broken  rocks  and  thick  brambles.  This  was 
not,  in  fact,  the  ordinary  place  of  descent,  which  was 
nearer  to  the  cabin,  and  was  less  precipitous  and  bushy. 
Brigham,  in  a  kind  of  brown  study,  had  strolled  south 
ward  along  the  high  ground,  past  the  fallen  tree.  As  he 
paused  there,  in  deep  thought,  his  attention  became  at 
tracted  by  a  low  rustling  sound,  coming  up  from  the 
valley,  as  of  some  one  cautiously  walking  through-  the 
tangled  brushwood.  He  listened  attentively,  though  with 
out  attaching  any  importance  to  the  sounds,  as  they  might 
be  caused  by  any  stray  Indian  wandering  by  the  spring 
at  a  late  hour.  His  act  was  mechanical,  and,  more  than 
any  thing  else,  the  effect  of  habit.  Two  or  three  times, 
the  noise  again  became  audible ;  and  he  even  thought  he 
could  distinguish  the  shuffling  of  footsteps  on  the  rocks  of 
the  declivity,  and  the  low  sound  of  a  solitary  voice.  The 
distance,  however,  was  so  great  as  to  prevent  him  from 
catching  the  words  spoken. 

But  at  length,  every  thing  became  silent  again ;  and 
Brigham,  supposing  that  he  heard  only  the  tread  and 
soliloquy  of  some  belated  native,  thought  no  more  of  the 
circumstance.  Soon  after,  he  returned  to  the  cabin,  where 
he  found  that  all,  excepting  Walcott,  had  retired  for  the 
night.  The  latter  was  anxious  to  know  the  effect  of  his 
host's  visit  among  the  Indians,  and  to  conclude  the  ar 
rangements  for  an  early  start  in  the  morning. 

A  few  words  sufficed  to  let  him  know  of  Brigham' s 
success  in  finding  and  securing  the  service  of  Catfoot ; 
and  after  a  brief  conversation  about  their  plans,  the  two 
men  at  last  laid  down,  to  catch,  in  their  turn,  a  few  hours' 
sleep  before  starting. 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE     NIGHT-MARCH. 

A  LITTLE  after  three  o'clock,  the  next  morning,  those 
•who  were  to  assist  in  the  intended  search  after  the  missing 
girl,  were  collected  in  front  of  the  log-edifice.  Brigham, 
Catfoot,  Walcott,  M'Carty,  and  Indian  Joe,  composed  the 
party. 

There  was  one  principal  path  which  led  to  the  outlet 
of  Saratoga  Lake,  which  was  then,  and  is  now,  commonly 
known  as  the  "  Narrows."  The  general  course  of  this 
path  was  along  the  edge  of  the  valley  we  have  mentioned ; 
a  valley  which  was  traversed  by  a  brook,  that  ultimately, 
and  after  a  considerable  detour,  emptied  into  the  lake. 
Upon  this  route,  it  was  deemed  important  that  some  one 
should  go,  so  as  to  intercept  Jacob,  in  case  he  should  take 
it  into  his  head  to  return  by  it.  Accordingly,  Brigham 
himself  determined  to  proceed  toward  the  Narrows,  on  this 
line.  Meanwhile,  it  was  not  impossible,  that  the  lunatic, 
following  the  impulse  of  habit,  might  have  repaired  to 
the  spot  where  Colonel  Belden  had  so  narrowly  escaped 
being  made  his  victim. 

To  meet  this  contingency,  it  was  decided  that  M'Carty 
and  Indian  Joe  should  take  that  direction ;  but  if  unsuc 
cessful  there,  they  were  to  follow  down  the  Kayaderos- 


74  SARATOGA. 

seras  creek  to  its  outlet,  and  so  join  the  others  at  the 
Narrows.  To  Catfoot  was  intrusted  the  task  of  fol 
lowing  up  the  trail  which  the  fugitive  had  left ;  and  by 
signs,  inappreciable  by  any  other  than  an  Indian's  eye,  to 
trace  out  the  route  which  he  had  followed.  As,  however, 
success  was  more  probable  on  this  route  than  on  any  other, 
and  one  man  would  be  inadequate  to  the  capture  of  Crazy 
Jacob,  in  case  he  should  be  found,  it  was  determined  that 
Walcott  should  accompany  him. 

The  path  to  be  followed  by  Brigham  formed  an  irregular 
curve  with  its  concavity  toward  the  south ;  that  to  be  taken 
by  M'Carty  and  Joe  formed  a  similar  curve,  with  its  con 
cavity  toward  the  north ;  while  the  path  which  it  was 
supposed  the  fugitive  had  taken  ran  in  a  line  nearly  equi 
distant  between  the  two.  The  distance  between  these 
three  was  so  small,  that  there  was  hardly  a  point  where 
the  loud  shout  of  a  man,  or  the  report  of  a  rifle,  could  not 
be  heard  from  one  party  to  the  other  next  adjoining  it. 
It  was  therefore  hoped,  that  in  the  event  of  any  important 
discovery,  communication  might  take  place  between  them 
all. 

It  will  be  recollected  that  the  hour  of  starting  was  long 
before  daylight.  The  moon  had  indeed  risen,  but  its  light 
was  feeble  and  uncertain.  Thin  vapory  clouds  were 
scattered  over  the  sky,  sometimes  gathering  into  clusters 
of  a  deeper  shade ;  and  as  the  moon  sailed  behind  them, 
the  whole  leafy  forest  below  was  shrouded  in  thick  dark 
ness — all  the  more  intense  from  contrast,  and  all  the  more 
palpable  from  the  profound  stillness  which  prevailed. 

It  seemed,  indeed,  a  hopeless  task  to  make  much  pro 
gress  under  such  circumstances ;  but  it  was  hoped  that  by 
the  time  they  could  be  fairly  engaged,  the  day  would 


THE    NIGHT-MARCH.  75 

begin  to  break.  As  to  Brigham,  who  was  to  follow  the 
regular  path,  there  was  no  difficulty ;  as  to  M'Carty  and 
Joe,  who  were  to  travel  over  ground  familiar  to  the  latter, 
and  to  a  point  which  had  often  been  visited,  there  was  also 
scarcely  any  embarrassment ;  but  as  to  Catfoot,  it  was 
quite  a  different  affair.  He  was,  indeed,  familiar  with, 
forest  life,  and  with  the  particular  locality ;  but  it  was 
impossible  to  divine  what  track  the  capricious  brain  of  a 
lunatic  might  induce  him  to  follow ;  and  the  indices  which 
he  might  have  left  behind,  would  be  difficult,  if  not  im 
possible  to  find  except  in  broad  day-light.  It  had  been 
determined  that  Colonel  Belden,  in  spite  of  his  urgent 
persistence,  should  remain  at  the  house.  The  service 
required  young  and  vigorous  limbs ;  and  besides,  in  case 
of  his  absence,  his  daughter  would  be  left  in  a  lonely  cabin, 
among  wild  bands  of  savages,  with  no  protector  but  a 
servant.  Thus  precluded  from  taking  an  active  part  in 
the  operations,  the  old  man  had  still  watched,  with  interest, 
the  preparations  and  departure  of  the  others.  The  path 
pursued  by  Brigham,  for  some  distance,  was  visible  from 
the  house ;  and  the  colonel  could  trace  his  receding  form, 
by  the  pale  light  of  the  moon,  until,  having  reached  a 
spot  where  the  path  went  down  into  the  valley,  it  disap 
peared  as  suddenly  as  if  dropped  over  a  precipice. 

The  two  other  parties  had  started  at  the  same  time. 
Until  they  should  reach  the  spot  where  Lucile  had  been 
seized,  their  paths  lay  together.  They  also,  for  some 
time  were  visible  from  the  house,  and  as  their  forms  be 
came  indistinguishable  in  the  distance,  or  lost  in  the  foliage, 
Colonel  Belden  turned  away  and  sighed,  as  if  his  hopes 
•were  vanishing  with  them. 

While  pre-occupied  with  many  unpleasant  thoughts,  and 


76  SARATOGA. 

engrossed  by  anxiety  as  to  the  result  of  the  efforts  about 
to  be  made,  he  heard,  or  fancied  he  heard,  the  sound  of 
distant,  but  loud  and  sonorous  laughter — a  sound  so  pecu 
liar,  that  when  once  heard,  it  was  not  likely  to  be  forgotten. 
In  a  moment,  all  his  senses  were  on  the  alert.  Faintly 
and  distantly  it  seemed  to  die  away  and  become  hushed. 
Was  it  fancy?  Could  his  ears  be  thus  deceived?  So 
faint  was  the  sound  which  had  reached  them  that  their 
evidence  was  not  wholly  to  be  trusted ;  but  he  still  con 
ceived  anxious  suspicions  that  the  object  of  pursuit  might 
not,  after  all,  be  far  from  the  starting-point;  and  the 
sound  of  that  unearthly  laughter  seemed  like  the  mocking 
of  an  evil  spirit,  at  the  futility  of  human  efforts,  when 
directed  to  thwart  its  diabolical  plans. 

Slowly,  and  with  many  painful  thoughts,  therefore,  did 
the  old  man  turn  back  into  the  house,  and  endeavor  to 
seek  that  rest,  which  for  the  earlier  part  of  the  night  had 
been  denied  him. 

From  the  point  where  Catfoot  and  Arthur  had  separated 
from  M'Carty  and  Joe,  they  had  to  travel  eastward  nearly 
a  mile,  over  a  level  and  heavily-timbered  plain.  Of 
underbrush  there  was  but  little.  The  trees  lifted  their 
straight  branchless  trunks  to  a  great  height,  their  tufted 
tops  spreading  in  thick  canopies  overhead,  through  which 
occasionally  the  faint  glimmer  of  a  star  could  be  seen. 
Now  and  then  a  low  rustling  sound,  gave  token  of  the 
passage  of  the  light  breeze  of  a  summer  night.  The 
cadence  of  the  wind  among  waving  pine-branches,  is  the 
most  solemn,  religious,  and  cloistral  of  all  the  voices  of  the 
great  woods.  It  seems  like  the  sigh  of  hopeless  prayer ; 
like  the  dying  away  of  distant  anthems ;  like  the  almost 
inaudible  rush  of  spiritual  wings.  In  the  dead  hour  of 


THE    NIGHT-MARCH.  77 

midnight,  and  especially,  in  the  long  silent  watches  which 
precede  the  dawn,  are  these  effects  most  appreciable. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  heart  of  the  Indian 
scout  was  alive  to  such  emotions  of  solemnity;  or  that 
his  mind  could  trace  in  any  thing  he  heard  or  saw,  remote 
spiritual  analogies.  Sensibility  was  nearly  exhausted  in 
gratitude  for  a  favor,  and  in  vengeance  for  an  injury.  But 
it  was  far  otherwise  with  his  companion  ;  who  felt,  as  he 
followed  silently  on,  that  the  shadowy  arches  through 
which  they  swiftly  wended  their  way,  had  all  the  grand 
eur  of  an  ecclesiastical  fane.  He  imagined  himself 
moving  throiigh  the  vast  aisles  of  some  Gothic  cathedral ; 
and,  with  a  deeper  sense  of  reality,  he  felt  that  the  wil 
derness,  in  its  wide  desolation  and  utter  solitude,  was, 
withal,  a  solemn  temple  of  worship. 

The  two  men  kept  close  to  each  other.  This,  even  in 
the  comparatively  level  space  through  which,  at  first,  they 
had  to  pass,  was  no  easy  thing.  In  the  shadows  of  the 
thick  tree-tops,  the  darkness  was  intense;  and  it  was 
more  by  the  faint  sound  of  his  footsteps  than  by  the  aid 
of  the  eye  that  Walcott  was  able  to  follow  his  companion. 
Occasionally,  too,  he  was  liable  to  be  misled,  as  some 
startled  denizen  of  the  woods  crossed  the  path ;  and  it 
required  all  his  attention  and  skill  to  distinguish  the 
muffled  tread  of  his  leader  from  the  many  noises  of  the 
forest.  To  provide  against  the  accident  of  separation  in 
the  darkness,  a  signal  had  been  agreed  upon  between 
them.  It  was  to  be  an  imitation  of  the  cry  of  an  owl ; 
and  more  than  once  was  Walcott  recalled  to  the  true 
course  by  that  preconcerted  sign. 

While  proceeding  in  this  manner,  at  a  place  more  than 
usually  obscure  and  obstructed  by  bushes,  Walcott  became 


78  SARATOGA. 

confused  and  distracted  by  sounds  of  footsteps  leading,  at 
once,  in  several  directions.  After  a  little  hesitation  he 
determined  to  follow  those  which  he  imagined  to  be  most 
in  the  line  of  his  course.  As  he  followed  on,  the  sounds 
receded,  and  he  was  thus  confirmed  in  the  idea  of  being  on 
the  right  track.  He  was,  therefore,  considerably  annoyed 
when,  after  having  gone  some  distance  in  that  direction, 
he  suddenly  heard  the  signal  from  a  point  entirely  dif 
ferent,  and  apparently  at  a  considerable  distance.  He 
immediately  changed  his  course,  and  made  the  best  of  his 
way  toward  the  spot  from  which,  at  short  intervals,  the 
cry  of  the  owl  continued  to  be  heard.  As  he  went  in  this 
new  course,  the  footsteps  which  he  had  prieviously  fol 
lowed,  seemed,  on  the  contrary,  to  be  following  him.  At 
the  same  time,  they  made  so  little  noise,  and  appeared  to 
drop  so  softly  on  the  leaves,  that  he  could  not  tell  whether 
they  belonged  to  a  man  or  to  an  animal.  He  supposed, 
however,  that  if  an  animal  it  would  be  nothing  more  than 
some  raccoon,  or  other  small  quadruped  following  him  from 
curiosity.  It  gave  him,  therefore,  no  concern,  and  but 
little  thought. 

Although  by  this  time  the  moon  was  up,  and  shed 
bright  pencils  of  light,  here  and  there,  through  the  open 
ings  of  the  tree-tops,  he  had  not  yet  been  able  to  see 
objects  around  him  with  any  distinctness.  After  a  walk 
of  some  ten  minutes,  he  reached  the  spot  whence  the  sup- 
1  posed  signal  proceeded;  but,  to  his  surprise,  found  no 
person  there.  This  was  singular,  and  by  no  means 
agreeable.  Having  stood,  for  a  moment,  in  a  state  of 
perplexity,  listening  to  the  mysterious  tread  of  whatever 
was  following  him,  he  suddenly  felt  his  arm  touched  ;  and 


•     THE    NIGHT-MARCH.  79 

the  guide,  in  a  whisper,  enjoined  silence,  while,  with  a 
tight  grasp,  he  drew  him  rapidly  forward. 

Walcott,  in  much  surprise,  permitted  himself  to  be  thus 
hurried  along,  and  began  to  think  that  the  Indian  had 
made  some  discovery  important  for  their  enterprise. 
Their  present  course  was  toward  a  small  opening  in 
the  forest,  where  the  bright  moonlight  formed  a  strong 
contrast  with  the  thick  gloom  of  the  surrounding  woods. 
The  footsteps  behind,  continued  to  follow  as  they  went. 
No  other  sounds  were  heard.  Apparently,  they  remained 
at  about  the  same  distance;  and,  though  their  progress 
was  now  more  rapid,  it  seemed  to  make  no  difference  in 
the  facility  with  which  the  proximity  was  maintained. 

They  soon  reached  the  open  ground;  which  might, 
perhaps,  comprise  about  two  acres.  Without  halting,  the 
Indian  led  the  way  directly  across  it.  On  the  margin  of 
the  clearing,  the  pursuing  footsteps  ceased.  Hitherto 
not  a  word  of  explanation  had  passed  between  the  two 
men  ;  though  "Walcott  observed  that  his  companion  was  a 
little  disturbed.  As  soon  as  they  reached  the  center  of 
the  clearing  the  Indian  paused  ;  and  as  Walcott  was  about 
to  ask  the  meaning  of  it  all,  he  laid  his  hand  upon  his 
arm,  saying  : 

"Listen!" 

At  that  moment,  there  arose  a  wild  inhuman  scream, 
which  not  only  startled  the  two  men,  but  which  appeared 
to  awaken  the  whole  forest  for  miles  around.  Hundreds 
of  animals,  seemed  suddenly  to  be  astir.  The  outcry  was 
like  nothing  which  Walcott  had  ever  before  heard.  To 
his  untrained  ears  it  was  neither  that  of  a  human  being, 
or  of  any  known  animal.  Sometimes  it  would  begin  in  a 
low  wailing  cry,  then  gradually  swell,  till  it  rose  into  an 


80  SARATOGA. 

appalling  volume  of  unearthly  noises,  to  which  no  name 
could  be  given  or  simile  applied.  At  the  same  time  it 
had  something  in  it,  so  startling  as  to  disturb  the  steadiest 
nerves;  and  seemed  to  come  from  a  creature  of  great 
power  and  ferocity.  Walcott  did  not  ask  the  Indian  what 
it  was :  but  to  his  inquiring  look,  the  other  replied,  simply 
by  pronouncing  the  word 

"  Painter." 

The  whole  mystery  was  at  once  explained.  Walcott 
had  never  before  met  with  the  creature  known  as  the 
American  Panther ;  and  had  but  an  imperfect  idea  of  one. 
The  recollection  that  he  had  been  tracked  for  a  long  dis 
tance  through  the  woods  by  the  terrible  creature,  which 
must  often  have  been  near  enough  to  spring  upon  him. 
was  unpleasant  enough,  even  though  the  principal  dang^  • 
was  now  past.  He  felt  a  sense  of  faintness  like  that 
which  one  experiences  after  having  narrowly  escaped 
falling  from  a  precipice.  Had  he,  while  near  the  animal, 
paused  for  any  considerable  space ;  or  had  he,  on  the  con 
trary  endeavored  to  run,  or  do  any  violent  act,  he  would 
probably  at  once  have  been  attacked  by  the  animal.  But 
as  he  had  continued  in  a  quiet  walk  until  joined  by  the 
guide,  and  as  the  two  had  then  moved  steadily,  though 
rapidly  away ;  it  is  probable,  that  the  animal  like  all  of 
the  feline  species,  had  hesitated  in  his  purpose,  watching 
an  opportunity  for  a  surprise,  or  a  sudden  assault. 

The  Wild  Cat  or  Catamount,  as  in  common  parlance, 
it  is  sometimes  called,  still  continued  its  outcry  on  the 
edge  of  the  woods,  walking  round  and  round  the  clearing 
as  if  searching  for  a  means  to  get  at  its  prey  without 
crossing  the  open  space.  It  may  well  be  imagined  that 
the  two  men,  did  not  dare  to  stir  from  their  position.  In 


THE    NIGHT-MARCH.  81 

the  open  ground,  and  in  the  full  moonlight,  where  they 
stood,  there  was  little  or  no  danger  of  an  attack. 

.They  therefore  determined  to  stay  where  they  were 
until  the  dawn,  which  was  now  just  breaking  in  the  east. 
With  daylight,  the  animal  would  doubtless  slink  away, 
and  leave  them  free  to  proceed.  It  was  during  the  inter 
val,  in  which  they  were  thus  waiting  for  morning,  that 
they  had  an  opportunity  of  observing  the  sly  and  cat 
like  habits  of  their  dangerous  neighbor.  Now,  that  she 
had  no  longer  a  chance  of  falling  upon  them  unawares, 
she  stole  around  their  place  of  refuge,  as  a  domestic  cat 
would  creep  around  a  cage  in  which  two  mice  had  been 
insnared,  but  were  still  beyond  her  reach.  Ever  and 
anon,  as  she  paused,  she  sent  forth  into  the  night,  her 
wailing  shriek;  which  at  different  times  resembled  the 
cry  of  a  child,  the  lament  of  a  woman,  and  the  howl  of  a 
wolf.  After  each  of  these  outbreaks,  there  would  be  en 
tire  silence  for  some  minutes;  and  when  it  was  again 
heard,  it  would  be  from  a  different  direction.  Each  pro 
jecting  clump  of  bushes  and  each  shadowy  point,  was  ap 
parently  tried  by  it,  to  ascertain  whether  under  its  cover, 
it  might  not  crawl  within  leaping  distance  of  its  victims. 
Once  even,  an  approach  was  made  so  closely,  that  its  two 
eyes  shone  like  fire,  full  upon  them. 

Walcott  prided  himself  upon  being  a  good  shot,  and  at 
that  time  he  drew  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  with  the  half 
formed  purpose  of  firing  ;  but  his  more  prudent  and  ex 
perienced  companion,  prevented  him.  Unless  the  shot 
should  take  instant  and  fatal  effect,  it  would  surely  cause 
the  death  of  one  or  both  of  them.  Besides  the  object  of 
their  expedition  would  then  be  unaccomplished ;  and  it  was 
too  important  to  be  forgotten,  even  at  that  hour. 
6 


82  SARATOGA. 

Thus  were  they  compelled,  impatiently,  to  watch  their 
enemy,  and  to  wait  for  morning. 

Slowly  the  gray  light  continued  to  creep  up  the  eastern 
sky — all  the  more  slowly  to  them  because  of  their  impa 
tience.  It  was  long  before  the  black  woods  even  changed 
to  a  dusky  brown.  Gradually  did  the  nameless  and  count 
less  noises  of  wild  animals  which  had  been  stirred  up  by 
the  appeal  of  the  panther,  die  away ;  and  give  place  to 
the  tamer,  but  more  welcome,  echoes  of  morning.  The 
sky  was  luminous  long  before  the  tree-tops  became  tracea 
ble  ;  and  when,  at  last,  the  light  slowly  descended,  clump 
after  clump  of  trees,  and  bushes,  came  out  dimly  from 
the  darkness;  till,  in  gray  obscurity,  the  whole  vast 
fretted  vault  of  the  wilderness  became  traversable  to  the 
human  eye. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE     TEAIL. 

WITH  the  darkness,  the  panther  disappeared ;  but  so 
silent  and  stealthy  was  its  departure,  that  the  direction 
taken  could  not  be  ascertained. 

The  path  which  had  been  followed  by  our  two  adven 
turers,  hardly  deserved  the  name.  No  eye  but  that  of  an 
Indian  could  have  discovered  its  outlines  by  day,  and  no 
foot  but  his  could  have  followed  it  by  night.  But  Catfoot 
had  never  once  lost  the  path.  Its  course  lay  nearly  east 
and  west ;  and  if  continued  in  a  direct  line,  must  have 
terminated  in  the  vicinity  of  the  lake  outlet.  This  outlet, 
or  "narrows,"  so  often  spoken  of,  was  that  part  of  the 
lake  in  which  it  suddenly  contracts  and  pours  its  heavy 
volume  of  water  through  a  deep,  narrow  channel. 

As  soon  as  it  was  sufficiently  light,  Catfoot  set  about  the 
task  of  finding  the  trail  of  the  fugitives.  Hitherto,  he 
had  only  pursued  a  general  course  on  which  they  had 
started,  and  which,  it  was  likoly,  would  have  been  followed. 
The  present  task  was  no  light  one.  To  an  ordinary  eye, 
the  woods  presented  only  a  trackless  blank.  Whatever 
faint  indications  of  passage  were  left,  could  only  be  observed 
by  eyes  familiar  with  every  feature  of  the  wilderness. 

From  the  point  where  they  then  stood,  Walcott  and  the 
scout  went  in  opposite  directions,  at  right  angles  with  the 


84  SARATOGA. 

main  path.  It  was  thought  that  in  this  way,  one  or  the 
other  of  them  would  be  likely  to  fall  upon  some  trace  of 
the  fugitives.  This  was  the  more  important  proceeding, 
and  the  more  likely  to  succeed,  because,  at  a  short  dis 
tance  eastward,  beyond  the  open  ground,  where  they  had 
been  compelled  to  take  refuge  from  the  panther,  the  level 
plain,  over  which  they  had  been  passing,  suddenly  sunk 
down  by  a  considerable  declivity,  and  the  ground  became 
low  and  marshy.  Beyond  this  point  the  woods  became 
tangled  and  bushy,  and  the  ground  rough,  and  interrupted 
by  sluggish  streams  and  muddy  water-pools.  It  was 
thought  probable  that  somewhere  along  the  brink  of  this 
morass,  or  "fly,"  as  Brigham  had  termed  it,  some  trace 
of  Jacob  might  be  found ;  if,  indeed,  he  had  gone,  as  was 
supposed,  to  the  narrows.  It  was  agreed  that  as  soon  as 
either  of  them  should  light  upon  any  thing  important,  he 
should  announce  the  fact  to  the  other,  by  a  howl,  in 
imitation  of  that  of  a  wolf.  By  adopting  this  precaution, 
there  would  be  less  danger  of  their  search  being  discovered. 
Walcott  took  a  southerly  direction,  and  examined  every 
inch  of  the  ground  along  the  brink  of  the  hill  for  some 
distance  without  success ;  and  he  had  just  began  to  think 
of  retracing  his  steps,  when  he  heard  a  sound  like  the  low, 
distant  howl  of  a  wolf.  Having,  for  a  moment,  forgotten 
that  this  was  the  concerted  signal,  and  his  ears  being 
familiarized  with  the  sound,  he  did  not,  at  once,  compre 
hend  its  meaning  :  nor  did  its  import  occur  to  him,  until 
after  it  had  been  twice  repeated.  He  then  retraced  his 
steps  as  rapidly  as  possible,  to  the  spot  where  he  and  his 
companion  had  separated,  and  there  paused,  awaiting  some 
further  signal  by  which  to  be  guided.  This  was  not  long 
in  coming.  The  same  cry  which  had  already  been  twice 


THE    TRAIL.  85 

heard,  could  now  be  distinguished,  much  louder  than  be 
fore.  As  it  came  from  the  direction  which  the  Indian  had 
taken,  Walcott  hastened  forward  toward  it,  without  hesi 
tation.  As  he  went  on,  it  was  from  time  to  time  repeated. 
At  length,  after  having  gone  thirty  or  forty  rods,  it  was 
no  longer  heard ;  and  he  paused  in  some  uncertainty ;  as 
by  this  time  he  supposed  himself  to  be  near  the  place, 
whence  the  sounds  had  proceeded. 

While  looking  about  him  for  some  sign  or  token  of  his 
mysterious  companion,  he  heard  a  dull  sound  upon  the 
earth  behind  him ;  and  on  turning  around,  saw  the  Indian 
quietly  standing  there.  It  was  as  if  he  had  risen  from 
the  earth,  or  descended  from  the  sky,  so  sudden  and  un 
accountable  was  his  appearance.  He  well  deserved  the 
name  which  he  bore ;  for  in  the  present  instance,  probably 
for  the  sake  of  effect,  and  to  impress  the  "  pale  face"  with 
a  high  opinion  of  his  stealthy  activity,  he  had  swung  him 
self  upward  into  the  branches  of  a  tree,  from  which,  to  the 
surprise  of  Walcott,  he  had  so  made  his  silent  descent. 

"  Why,  Catfeot,"  exclaimed  Arther ;  "  where  the  devil 
did  you  come  from?" 

The  Indian  smiled,  and  pointed  to  the  branch  overhead. 
He  then  proceeded,  with  much  apparent  satisfaction  at  his 
late  theatrical  performance  to  call  his  comrade's  attention 
to  some  marks  upon  the  earth,  which  had  given  occasion 
for  his  signal.  This  was  more  to  the  purpose.  The 
ground  where  they  stood,  was  sandy  and  soft.  Close 
along  the  edge  of  the  slope  which  led  down  to  the  low 
ground,  the  Indian  now  pointed  out,  what  Walcott  would, 
at  first  sight,  have  taken  for  the  track  of  a  bear,  but  that 
the  strides  were  too  long  for  that  usually  sluggish  animal. 
Evidently,  the  impression  was  made  by  some  heavy  crea- 


86  SARATOGA. 

ture,  for  it  was  deep  and  well  defined.  It  was  traceable 
only  for  a  very  short  distance,  and  that  where  the  ground 
was  more  than  commonly  bare  and  free  from  leaves  and 
broken  twigs.  The  Indian  led  Walcott  along  the  whole 
extent  of  the  visible  appearance  of  the  tracks,  pointing  out 
each  impression,  and  often  disclosing  one  where  his  com 
panion  would  have  seen  nothing.  During  all  this  while 
he  continued  silent. 

"Well,"  said  Walcott,  with  some  feeling  of  irritation, 
when  they  got  through,  "  I  see  nothing  in  all  this.  Some 
heavy  animal  has  passed  this  way  without  doubt ;  but  I 
don't  see  how  the  sight  of  his  footsteps  can  do  us  any 
good." 

"What  you  think  him?"  said  Catfoot,  seating  himself 
coolly  upon  a  fallen  tree,  and  looking  his  associate  full  in 
the  face. 

"What  do  I  think  him?"  answered  Walcott,  impa 
tiently;  "why  some  bear,  to  be  sure;  or  perhaps  that 
infernal  wild-cat ;  or  perhaps  a  moose.  But  whatever  it 
was,  it  is  hardly  worth  our  while  to  bother  our  heads  over 
it.  We  have  something  more  knportant  to  think  of.  I 
wish  to  heaven,  Brigham  or  M'Carty  would  give  some 
signs  of  themselves." 

"  Bear,  moose,  wilcat,  all  got  four  leg,"  coolly  replied 
the  pertinacious  Catfoot. 

"  Well,  what  of  that?"  said  Walcott. 

"  No  make  two  step  like  man  ;  make  tree,  four,"  con- 
tiuued  the  Indian. 

"  Why,  what  the  devil,  then,  do  you  suppose,  did  make 
these  confounded  tracks  ?"  asked  Walcott,  testily. 

"  Jake,"  replied  the  other. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  these  are  a  man's  footmarks, 


THE    TRAIL.  87 

stretching  five  feet  apart,  and  looking  more  like  the  marks 
of  a  falling  stone  than  any  thing  else,  do  you?" 

"  No ;  him  Jake's,"  said  the  other  persistently. 

"  But  whatever  made  these,  must  have  been  as  heavy 
as  an  ox,"  still  urged  Walcott. 

"Wild  Jake,  I  say,  carry  load;  run  like  moose,"  said 
Catfoot,  with  emphasis. 

It  was,  after  all,  quite  possible  that  the  crazy  man, 
with  the  burden  which  he  bore,  might  have  caused  the 
trail.  Walcott  also,  by  this  time,  recollected  that  Jacob 
had  worn  large,  shapeless  moccasins,  such  as  might  not 
very  clearly  leave  behind  the  impression  of  a  human 
foot. 

For  the  rest,  the  Indian  was  quite  positive,  and  evi 
dently  had  come  to  a  conclusive  opinion  upon  the  point. 
Walcott  recollected  that,  in  the  interpretation  of  any  of 
the  signs  of  the  woods,  Catfoot  was  not  one  likely  to  be 
mistaken.  He  therefore  at  length,  yielded  a  slow  and 
reluctant  credence  to  the  theory  so  sententiously  pro 
pounded  to  him  in  the  matter. 

"But,  Catfoot,"  he  said,  after  some  pause,  "I  do  not 
see  how  this  is  to  benefit  us ;  for  the  marks  stop  the  other 
side  of  this  fresh  ground ;  and  there  we  will  be  left  as 
much  in  doubt  as  before.  It  seems  to  me  that  he  would 
not  keep  this  course  long,  if  he  meant  to  go  to  the  lake. 
Perhaps  we  had  better  push  straight  across  the  swamp,  as 
we  have  now  daylight  before  us." 

The  Indian  shook  his  head,  saying  : 

" No  find  him  that  way;  better  keep  trail." 

"  But  how  are  we  to  do  that  ?"  asked  the  other.  "  Time 
presses ;  and  we  must  do  something.  If  this  is  really 
Jacob's  trail,  he  must  have  carried  her,  as  you  say,  while 


88  SARATOGA. 

he  passed  this  spot ;  and  that  shows  that  he  had  not  jet 
killed  her." 

Catfoot  now  rose ;  and  going  to  the  place  where  the 
footmarks  seemed  to  disappear,  turned  to  his  companion, 
and  motioned  him  to  follow.  Hereupon,  he  again  moved 
forward ;  but  now  with  greater  apparent  confidence  and 
rapidity ;  for  a  while,  following  the  edge  of  the  swamp, 
after  which  he  turned  gradually  to  the  northwest,  curving 
more  and  more,  till  at  length,  the  course  lay  almost  di 
rectly  back  toward  the  springs. 

Walcott,  during  all  this  while,  did  not  in  the  least  un 
derstand  by  what  impalpable  signs,  or  savage  instincts  his 
companion  felt  himself  guided  ;  but  for  the  time  he  had 
nothing  better  to  do  than  to  follow.  From  the  other  two 
searching  parties  no  signal  had  as  yet  been  heard.  In 
Brigham  great  confidence  was  to  be  placed ;  and  as  he 
would  undoubtedly  visit  the  narrows,  it  was  still  hoped 
that  before  night  he  would  be  able  to  report  what  was 
discoverable  in  that  quarter.  In  M'Carty  and  Joe,  not 
so  much  faith  could  be  put.  The  former,  though  shrewd 
enough  upon  occasions,  was  too  careless  and  rattle-brained; 
and  the  latter  labored  under  a  superstitious  awe  of  the 
madman.  Their  search,  however,  would  have  the  effect 
of  determining  a  question  of  fact ;  and  if  Jacob  should 
have  visited  the  place  which  they  were  directed  to  ex 
amine,  they  would  probably  be  able  to  give  some  notion 
of  his  present  whereabouts,  or  of  the  disposition  which  he 
had  made  of  his  captive.  It  was  quite  certain  that  if 
they  had  encountered  any  thing  of  importance,  they 
would,  ere  now,  have  been  heard  from. 

Without  doubt,  therefore,  not  only  they,  but  Brig- 
ham  also,  had  already  gone  forward  to  the  lake ;  and  one, 


THE    TRAIL.  89 

or  all,  were  confidently  expected  to  make  themselves  visi 
ble  during  the  day. 

These  reflections  occurred  to  Walcott,  as  he  and  Catfoot 
continued  their  pursuit.  After  a  considerable  period,  the 
latter  began  to  move  slowly,  and  to  pick  his  way  with 
more  care.  At  times,  he  even  appeared  to  be  at  fault. 
It  was,  at  the  same  time,  some  satisfaction  to  Walcott,  at 
long  intervals,  to  discover  in  some  piece  of  soft  or  sandy 
ground,  the  same  rude  impressions  which  had  first  at 
tracted  their  attention.  It  showed,  at  least,  that  their 
course  was  not  at  random,  and  directed  merely  by  caprice. 
It  also  increased  his  confidence  in  the  skill  of  his  asso 
ciate. 

When  at  length,  therefore,  he  found  the  latter  be 
coming  baffled  and  uncertain,  he  felt  all  the  more  annoyed 
and  disappointed ;  for  it  was  certain  that  if  the  Indian's 
sagacity  should  fail  him,  there  was  no  other  immediate 
thing  to  rely  on. 

A  broken  stick,  an  upturned  leaf,  a  bush  slightly  put 
aside,  or  a  cobweb  torn  asunder,  to  the  keen  eyes  which 
there  observed  them,  were  like  monuments,  plain  as  guide- 
boards  and  mile-stones :  but  when  they  became  faint  and 
only  discoverable  at  long  intervals,  and  after  close  search, 
the  result  became  again  involved  in  doubt. 

The  ground  had  now  become  more  open ;  and  the  few 
traces  which  they  met  were  quite  as  much  calculated  to 
confuse  as  to  enlighten  them. 

After  passing  over  a  small  interval  of  dry  plain  which 
was  destitute  of  trees,  and  bore  only  a  few  stunted  shrubs, 
they  came  to  the  brink  of  another  valley  through  which 
flowed  a  small  stream.  As  they  stood  there  they  could 
hear  its  low  ripple  deep  down  among  the  somber  bushes, 


VO  SARATOGA. 

mingling  with  the  hum  of  insects  and  the  twittering  of 
birds  among  the  sunny  branches. 

Walcott  knew  it  to  be  the  same  creek  along  the  other 
side  of  which  Brigham  must  have  passed  the  night  before; 
and  by  following  tip  which,  they  would  come  out  at  the 
place  from  which  they  started. 

Here  they  confidently  expected  to  find  some  evidence 
that  Jacob  had  descended  into  the  valley,  and  turned  to 
the  right,  so  as  to  follow  the  run  of  the  rivulet,  toward 
the  Lake. 

In  this  expectation  they  were  a  little  disappointed ;  for 
the  trail,  though  they  now  came  upon  it  again,  and  found 
it  more  marked  and  decided  than  before,  led  in  no  one 
direction,  but  pointed  forth  in  all.  The  earth  was  much 
trampled ;  and  Walcott  had  the  unspeakable  satisfaction 
of  finding,  in  several  places,  a  small  imprint,  apparently 
that  of  a  female  foot.  Here  was  almost  a  certain  proof 
that  their  efforts  had  not  been  in  vain.  Here  Jacob  must 
have  paused,  and  let  down  his  burden.  The  spot  was, 
doubtless,  a  point  of  departure ;  and,  in  every  view, 
worthy  of  close  observation. 

But  the  slight  consolation  afforded  by  this  discovery, 
was  soon  destined  to  be  forgotten  in  anxiety,  when  they 
found  that  precisely  there,  all  further  trace  of  those  they 
sought  seemed  to  be  entirely  lost.  The  trail  in  one  place 
descended  to  the  creek,  and  was  traceable  across  it ;  but 
it  was  also  found,  radiating  forth  on  the  plain  above  in 
several  different  directions,  on  each  of  which  it  finally 
disappeared. 

The  savage  began  to  manifest  signs  of  surprise.  His 
eyes  became  like  those  of  a  lynx — quick,  uneasy,  rolling. 
Not  a  scratch  in  the  sand,  not  a  blade  of  grass  from  which 


THE    TRAIL.  91 

the  dew  had  been  brushed,  not  a  leaf  whose  down  had  been 
rubbed  ;  seemed  to  escape  his  scrutiny.  But  after  much 
fruitless  search,  and  much  delay,  they  were  still  compelled 
to  pause  and  consider  what  was  next  to  be  done.  It  was 
idle  to  wander  on  at  random,  when  every  step  they  made 
might  take  them  further  from  their  object. 

Both  were  silent ;  and  the  Indian  even  laid  himself 
down  upon  the  ground,  as  if  in  the  intense  labor  of  reflec 
tion.  For  some  time  he  was  entirely  quiet,  so  much  so 
that  Walcott  bent  over  him  to  see  whether  he  was  asleep ; 
but  found  hi?  small,  black  eyes  still  wide  open,  and  as 
restless  and  fiery  as  ever.  They  alone  wore  a  look  of 
thoughtfulness ;  for  his  countenance  was  as  still  and  ex 
pressionless  as  wax. 

"  I  see  no  other  way  for  it,"  said  Walcott,  at  last,  "  but 
to  follow  up  our  first  plan,  and  go  down  the  stream.  It 
seems  to  me  more  likely  that  he  went  to  the  narrows  than 
anywhere  else.  He  would  not  go  back  to  the  springs ; 
and,  at  the  north,  he  has  no  hiding-places  that  I  ever 
heard  of.  What  do  you  say,  Catfoot,  shall  we  try  it?" 

The  other  slowly  rose  from  the  ground,  saying : 

"  Try  him?  Yes.  Ugh  !  no  find  him,  though  ;  must 
be  debbil;  no  leave  trail." 

With  this  determination  they  descended  into  the  val 
ley  of  the  stream,  and  pursued  the  route  toward  th« 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE     FLI  &HT. 

WE  must  now  return  to  poor  Lucile  Valcour,  who  has 
been  left,  all  this  while,  at  the  mercy  of  a  being  more  to 
be  feared  than  a  beast  of  prey. 

When  she  was  first  seized  by  Jacob,  nature  had  come 
to  her  relief  and  deprived  her  of  consciousness.  For  some 
moments  after  she  became  restored  to  the  use  of  her  senses, 
she  was  too  much  startled  to  be  fully  conscious  of  her 
situation,  or  to  reflect  upon  the  imminent  peril  to  which 
she  was  exposed.  She  felt  herself  in  the  power  of  one 
who  seemed  to  possess  more  than  human  strength  and 
agility.  He  dashed  through  the  woods  with  the  speed  of 
a  deer,  bearing  her  as  easily  as  an  ordinary  man  would 
bear  a  child. 

In  the  confusion  and  alarm  of  the  moment,  Lucile  could 
not  tell  in  what  direction  they  were  going ;  and  even  when 
she  sufficiently  recovered  herself  to  look  about,  owing  to 
the  rapidity  of  the  flight,  and  the  thickness  of  the  trees, 
she  found  it  impossible  to  form  any  thing  like  a  reasonable 
conjecture  upon  the  point.  Though  apprehensive  of  some 
act  of  violence,  the  intrepid  girl,  when  she  found  herself 
beyond  the  immediate  reach  of  relief,  refrained  from 
screams  and  outcries ;  but  turned  her  mind  resolutely  to 
contemplate  her  actual  situation.. and.  if  possible,  to  devise 


THE    FLIGHT.  93 

some  means  of  averting  its  dangers.  After  the  few  strug 
gles,  which  she  had  impulsively  made  in  the  beginning, 
she  concluded  that  entire,  apparent  passiveness,  at  least 
for  the  present,  was  her  best  policy.  She  spoke  to  her 
captor  firmly,  but  entreatingly,  in  a  voice  so  gentle  and 
touching,  that  the  rudest  heart  should  have  been  moved 
by  it.  But  he  heard  or  heeded  nothing,  as  he  crashed 
through  the  brush,  and  swept  like  a  phantom  past  the 
dark  and  somber  trees. 

When,  at  length,  his  speed  was  somewhat  slackened, 
and  when  she  renewed  her  entreaties  to  be  released,  or  to 
be  taken  back  to  her  friends,  he  only  answered  by  his  wild 
laugh,  though  its  extreme  loudness  was  now  suppressed ; 
and,  in  other  ways,  he  gave  indications  of  that  cunning, 
so  often  manifested  by  madmen.  As  will  have  been  con 
jectured,  he  pursued  the  route  which  was  afterward  so 
successfully  followed  by  "Walcott  and  his  guide.  When 
he  arrived  at  the  place  near  the  creek,  where  the  skill  of 
the  Indian  was  baffled,  and  the  patience  of  his  comrade 
so  severely  tried,  he  released  the  trembling  girl  from  his 
arms,  and  allowed  her  to  walk. 

"  So,  so,  my  pretty  puss ;  you  and  I  have  given  them 
all  the  slip, ' '  he  exclaimed ;  "  we '  ve  beat  'em  all  to  Gretna 
Green !  Ho !  ho !  The  old  Doctor  will  have  to  be  sharp 
to  find  me  this  time." 

"  But  you  don't  mean  to  take  me  away  any  further 
now,  do  you?"  Lucile  ventured  to  ask. 

"No  further?  Ha!  ha!  ha!  Why  what  should  we 
go  further  for  ?  Ain't  we  here  already  ?  My  poor  little 
pussy !  you  have  got  a  nice  pretty  face"  (and  he  patted 
her  under  the  chin,  with  his  huge,  long-nailed  black 
fingers),  "but  a  little  soft"  (touching  her  on  the  fore- 


94  SARATOGA. 

head), "just  a  little  flighty,  you  know,  here,  eh?  Bless 
me,  what  a  pity  !"  he  continued  as  if  speaking  to  himself. 
"  I  must  take  care  that  she  does  no  mischief.  They  say 
crazy  women  are  sometimes  the  devil.  So,  for  all  she 
looks  so  innocent  and  tender-like,  I'll  just  keep  an  eye  on 
her.  Poor  thing!  poor  thing!" 

Lucile  was  not  ignorant  of  the  fact,  that  it  is  a  common 
delusion  for  the  insane  to  imagine  others  around  them 
to  be  out  of  their  wits.  This  reflection,  while  the  idea 
was  grotesque  enough,  was  still  fraught  with  consolation, 
for  it  was  not  likely  that  any  violence  would  be  offered  to 
her,  so  long  as  she  was  supposed  to  be  such  a  natural 
object  of  compassion.  With  such  armor  has  beneficent 
wisdom  shielded  those  from  whom  the  mind,  their  ordi 
nary  protector,  has  been  withdrawn. 

Whatever  might  be  the  issue,  Lucile  immediately  deter 
mined  to  assume,  or  at  least  not  to  contradict,  the  char 
acter,  which  the  delusion  of  her  captor  had  assigned 
her. 

"I  am  hungry,"  said  she,  following  up  her  thought; 
"can  you  take  me  to  some  place  where  food  can  be 
obtained?" 

"Poor  thing!  poor  thing!"  was  all  the  reply  which 
Jacob,  for  the  moment,  vouchsafed  to  make. 

"How  far  is  it,"  she  said,  "to  my  father's  house? 
Please  tell  me,  brother." 

"Ho!  ho!"  he  now  noisily  laughed,  in  reply;  "the 
poor  little  puss  is  already  thinking  of  her  father's  house. 
We  ran  away  to  get  married  out  here  in  Gretna  Green, 
and  she  begins  already  to  talk  of  her  father's  house! 
ha!  ha!" 

"  But,  you  know,"  she  continued,  trembling  at  the  turn 


THE    FLIGHT.  95 

he  was  giving  to  affairs;  "you  know  that  you  are  my 
brother,  and  we  can  not  get  married." 

"  Ha !  ha !"  he  replied  :  "  she  is  so  flighty  she  thinks 
I  am  her  brother.  But  no  matter !  I'll  take  her  to  my 
mad-house  and  cure  her.  Then  we'll  be  married.  But 
it's  a  pity  she's  wild,  and  has  no  one  to  care  for  her ;  so, 
I  must  sacrifice  my  own  feelings,  for  her  sake.  There 
now !  little  pussy !  come  along,  and  we'll  have  it  seen  to 
right  away." 

The  poor  girl  was  greatly  alarmed,  and  had  gained  no 
reassurance  by  what  had  been  said.  She  followed  him 
slowly.  Her  'limbs  trembled  as  she  walked ;  her  cheek 
was  pale ;  and  her  eyes  half  blinded  by  tears.  She  was 
in  the  power  of  a  madman ;  and  nothing  but  the  utmost 
prudence  and  circumspection  could  avert  the  danger  which 
at  every  moment  threatened  her.  What  if  the  marriage 
should  be  insisted  on  ?  How  could  she  evade  it  ?  And 
what  ceremonies  might  he  imagine  to  be  necessary  or  suit 
able  for  the  occasion  ? 

In  the  mean  while  he  led  the  way  down  an  easy,  sandy 
slope,  upon  which  grew  a  large  pine-tree — large  enough 
to  have  stood  there  for  centuries.  It  had  reared  itself 
for  nearly  a  hundred  feet  into  the  air,  without  a  branch, 
and  apparently,  without  a  knot.  But,  either  from  its 
enormous  weight,  or  from  the  washing  away  of  the  earth 
from  its  roots,  it  had  lost  its  perpendicular  position ;  and 
now  leaned  far  over  down  the  hill.  Its  vast  bulk,  hang 
ing  thus  in  mid  air,  was  like  a  natural  tower  of  Pisa ;  and 
gave  to  one  standing  under  it,  a  constant  uneasy  appre 
hension  lest  its  supports  might  give  way,  and  the  enor 
mous  shaft  itself,  topple  over,  and  fall  with  a  crash  to 
the  ground.  Around  its  base,  protected  by  the  shadows 


96  SARATOGA. 

of  thick  bushes,  had  been  arranged  poles  and  strips  of 
bark,  so  as  to  form  a  rude  kind  of  hut,  which  was  some 
thing  more  than  the  bare  shelter  of  open  branches  and 
rustling  leaves.  The  leaning  tree  formed  nearly  one  side 
of  the  conically  shaped  cabin ;  and  although  its  base  was 
at  the  outer  margin  of  the  creek  valley,  its  shaft  swept 
slopingly  upward,  by  the  peak  or  apex.  To  this  rude 
abode,  or  rather,  place  of  concealment,  was  Lucile  led  by 
her  captor. 

To  divert  his  thoughts,  if  possible,  from  the  channel 
in  which  they  had,  for  some  time,  appeared  to  be  flowing, 
she  still  continued  to  complain  of  hunger ;  hoping  thus,  to 
set  him  to  the  task  of  providing  food — a  task,  which,  in 
their  situation,  she  thought,  could  not  fail  to  keep  him 
for  some  time  occupied.  In  this  design,  she  was.  to  a 
certain  extent,  successful. 

As  soon  as  she  had  entered  the  cabin,  and  sat  down  to 
gather  her  thoughts  into  order,  as  well  as  to  recover  her 
exhausted  strength,  he  departed  from  the  hut,  often  cau 
tiously  looking  back,  and  re-ascended  the  bank  down 
which  they  had  come.  In  doing  this,  however,  he  prac 
ticed  a  precautionary  maneuver,  of  which  she  was  at  the 
tune  ignorant,  and  which,  had  she  known  of  it,  might 
have  rendered  her  still  more  unhappy,  as  it  showed  the 
cunning  and  determination  to  retain  her,  of  the  creature 
who  had,  so  suddenly,  become  the  controller  of  her  move 
ments,  and,  perhaps,  the  arbiter  of  her  fate. 

Instead  of  walking  up  the  acclivity,  in  the  ordinary 
way,  he  walked  backward,  carefully  placing  his  feet  in 
the  tracks  which  he  had  made  in  descending.  He  was 
familiar,  it  seems,  with  the  Indian  method  of  pursuit  by 
trailing;  and,  with  a  foresight  almost  diabolical,  had  antic- 


THE    FLIGHT.  97 

ipated  that  he  would  be  followed,  not  only  with  the  en 
ergy  and  force  of  white  men,  but  with  the  sagacity  and 
experience  of  the  aborigines. 

At  the  spot  where  they  had  halted,  it  was  his  design, 
that  his  pursuers,  whoever  they  might  be,  and  whenever 
they  might  come,  should  be  thrown  out,  and  utterly  baf 
fled.  As  soon  as  he  reached  the  level  ground  at  the  top 
of  the  ascent,  he  moved  boldly  off  into  the  woods,  leaving 
a  plain  trail — at  least  plain  to  the  eye  of  an  Indian.  Af 
ter  he  had  continued  fn  thus,  for  thirty  or  forty  rods,  he 
returned  upon  his  footsteps,  in  the  same  manner,  as  he 
had  ascended  from  the  cabin ;  that  is  to  say,  by  walking 
backward.  This  operation  he  went  through  several  times, 
on  each  occasion  taking  a  different  direction. 

When  all  these  various  maneuvers  had  been  accom 
plished,  the  next  task  was,  to  depart  from  the  vicinity  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  leave  no  clue  to  his  course. 

The  place  of  concealment  in  which  he  had  left  his  cap 
tive,  was  so  cunningly  devised,  and  so  carefully  hidden, 
that  it  was  quite  unobservable  from  any  position  which 
his  pursuers  were  likely  to  take ;  and  all  his  approaches 
to  it,  he  had  scrupulously  rendered  indistinguishable. 

It  was  his  present  purpose  to  proceed  alone.  During 
his  absence,  which  he  intended  to  be  a  brief  one,  he  had 
no  apprehensions  of  the  escape  of  his  prisoner.  In  fact, 
he  hardly  looked  upon  her  in  the  light  of  a  prisoner.  The 
notion  which  seemed  paramount  in  his  mind,  was,  that 
they  were  two  lovers  who  had  run  away  to  be  married. 
Besides,  she  was  now  surrounded  by  a  wilderness,  which 
was  to  the  inexperienced  eye  utterly  trackless,  and  beset 
with  difficulties  which  rendered  traveling,  in  any  given 
direction,  almost  impossible  to  a  novice. 
7 


98  SARATOGA. 

These  considerations  were  not,  properly  speaking,  dis 
tinctly  palpable  to  the  mind  of  the  lunatic ;  if  it  may  be 
said  that  the  unregulated  chaos  of  sensations  and  fancies 
which  he  experienced  belonged  to  such  a  thing  as  mind. 
He  appeared  rather  to  be  guided  by  the  instinctive  im 
pulses  which  move  animals,  and  often  seem  to  inspire 
them  with  what  looks  like  superhuman  cunning. 

It  will  be  recollected  that,  at  a  short  distance  from  the 
old  pine-tree,  at  whose  base  the  cabin  stood,  was  a  small 
stream,  flowing,  in  its  general  caurse,  toward  the  lake. 
Jacob,  while  making  his  false  trails,  had  also  bent  his 
steps  to  this  creek.  He  even  went  beyond  it,  and  again 
retraced  his  way.  The  stream  was  ten  or  twelve  feet  in 
width,  and  was  generally  fringed  with  a  thick  border  of 
willows.  Its  bottom  was  hard,  and  was  of  a  stiff  clay, 
except  where,  now  and  then,  it  was  paved  with  a  deposit 
of  white  pebbles.  The  water  was  only  about  six  inches  in 
depth;  and  when  Jacob,  on  his  return,  reached  nearly 
the  center  of  it,  he  made  a  powerful  spring  sidewise,  and 
alighted  some  distance  down  the  stream.  He  then  care 
fully  walked  away  in  the  water,  avoiding  places  where 
his  weight  might  make  some  marked  impression  upon  the 
bottom. 

Poor  Lucile  had,  meanwhile,  remained  almost  in  a 
state  of  stupefaction,  arising  from  terror  and  exhaustion. 
Night  was  now  coming  slowly  on.  Its  approach  is  always 
heralded  among  the  shadowy  recesses  of  the  forest,  long 
before  it  becomes  apparent  in  the  open  plains,  and  on  the 
hill  tops.  Utterly  helpless,  as  she  was,  she  reclined  upon 
a  pile  of  boughs  and  rough  old  deer  skins,  which  formed 
a  rude  couch.  Her  despondency,  for  the  moment,  was 
euch  as  to  disincline  her  to  any  further  exertion.  Tfcc 


TH.E    FLIGHT.  99 

drowsy  silence  around  her,  save  as  it  was  disturbed  by 
the  low  ripple  of  the  neighboring  brook,  combined  with 
the  fatigue,  and  with  the  shades  of  early  evening,  to  lull 
her  into  an  uneasy  half  slumber,  like  that  produced  by 
narcotics  in  a  person  suffering  great  agony.  Her  in 
tense  feeling  of  the  peril  of  her  situation,  grew  gradually 
fainter  and  fainter,  and  finally,  passed  away  from  her 
consciousness,  somewhat  as  the  surrounding  landscape  be 
came  shrouded,  first  in  shadows,  and  then  in  darkness. 

And  as  this  outward  night,  which  now  began  to  vail 
the  world,  was  not  .'all  mystery  and  silence,  but  was 
lighted  by  uriumeraDle  stars,  and  was  disturbed  by  the 
hum  of  insects,  the  whir  of  reptiles,  and  the  distant  howl 
of  awaking  beasts  of  prey ;  so  the  mind  of  Lucile  was 
not  wrapped  in  dreamless  slumber ;  but  visions  shone  out 
like  stars  through  the  mist ;  and  her  repose  was  agitated 
by  confused  and  multitudinous  thoughts  of  pain  and 
danger.  Hers  was  the  steep  of  fever.  Her  body  alone 
rested;  and  even  that  not  fully.  The  confusion  in  its 
citadel,  the  brain,  communicated  itself  to  her  whole  sys 
tem,  and  shook  her  limbs  with  convulsive  starts.  Her 
lips  moved,  with  the  struggles  of  memory,  and  with  the 
efforts  of  her  senses  to  resume  their  offices. 

How  long  she  lay  in  this  state,  she  did  not  know.  Every 
thing  around  had  become  shrouded  in  utter  darkness.  Her 
breathing  was  just  audible  within  the  hut.  Outside  of  it, 
from  different  directions,  could  be  heard  the  howl  of  the 
wolf — the  almost  universal  denizen  of  the  primitive 
American  forests.  Nearer  at  hand,  a  nice  ear  might, 
perhaps,  have  heard  the  low  sound  of  stealthy  footsteps, 
pacing  slowly  and  cautiously  about  the  cabin.  Occasion 
ally  there  was  a  pause,  and  then  the  walk  would  bo  re- 


100  SARATOGA. 

sumed.  But  of  all  this,  the  sleeping  occupant  of  that 
rude  abode  was  happily  unconscious. 

At  length  the  bearskin  which  hung  across  the  entrance 
was  thrust  aside ;  and  a  pair  of  keen,  black  eyes,  dilated, 
and  blazing  with  eager  curiosity,  shone  through  the  open 
ing.  Presently  a  shadowy  form  crept  through.  Then 
there  was  a  pause  and  silence.  Again  the  form  was  in 
motion;  and,  after  some  slight  rustling,  interrupted  by 
periods  of  listening,  a  light  was  struck,  and  the  huge 
ogre-like  form  and  fierce  countefcnce  of  Crazy  Jacob 
became  faintly  discernible  in  the  dull  glimmer.  Still, 
the  tired  girl  slept  on,  unconscious  of  any  change  about 
her. 

No  sooner  was  the  light  obtained  than  Jacob  turned  it 
so  that  its  beams  fell  upon  the  face  of  the  sleeper,  which 
he,  for  a  moment,  contemplated  with  a  look  of  mingled 
admiration,  ferocity,  and  pity.  In  a  few  seconds,  how 
ever,  the  torch  was  extinguished,  and  all  was  again  left  in 
darkness. 

The  madman  then  crept  quietly  up  to  where  she  lay, 
and  took  her  gently  up  in  his  arms  and  bore  her,  still 
unconscious,  from  the  cabin.  But,  as  the  chill  night  air 
fell  upon  her  cheek,  she  woke  with  a  start  and  with  a 
slight  scream. 

"  Ha !  ha !"  laughed  the  maniac,  as  he  heard  her  voice, 
and  felt  her  feeble  struggling;  "the  poor  little  kitten  is 
afraid  to  travel  in  the  dark." 

The  sound  of  his  voice  at  once  recalled  her  to  a  full 
consciousness  of  her  situation. 

"  You  are  going  to  take  me  back  to  my  friends,  now, 
are  you  not,  good  Jacob  ?"  she  ventured  to  suggest. 

"To  your  friends,  little  puss?"  he  replied  ;  "why,  no 


THE    PLIGHT.  101 

you  silly  thing ;  you  don't  know  what's  good  for  you.  I 
have  a  house  fit  for  a  princess,  and  I'm  going  to  take  you 
there.  Ho !  ho !  What  gay  times  there  will  be  at  our 
marriage,  to  be  sure  !  Nobody  is  to  be  seen  there ;  but 
there  are.  voices  there  which  always  answer ;  and  when  one 
laughs,  they  are  such  jolly  company !  Voices  all  around, 
coming  from  everywhere ;  and  such  good  creatures  that 
you  never  hear  'em  unless  you  say  something  yourself,  or 
show  yourself  inclined  for  a  bit  of  fun.  Ain't  it  a  jolly 
place?" 

"  But  you  do  not  mean  to  take  a  poor  girl  like  me 
there  without  seeing  her  father,  and  asking  his  con 
sent?" 

"Flighty  again,  by  jingo!"  said  he.  "Consent? 
Why,  didn't  you  run  off  with  me  without  leave  or  licence, 
you  silly  little  puss?" 

During  this  short  dialogue  he  had  set  her  down,  and 
was  busied  in  so  arranging  the  bushes  in  front  of  the  hut, 
as  to  conceal  it  as  much  as  might  be,  from  observation. 
She  perceived  that  he  was  doing  something  near  her, 
and  partly  divined  what  it  was ;  but  could  see  little 
or  nothing. 

To  him,  darkness  and  daylight  seemed  as  one.  He  did 
not  talk  much  to  himself,  as  maniacs  are  apt  to  do ;  and 
save  now  and  then  giving  vent  to  his  hoarse  and  dis 
sonant,  but  slightly  suppressed  laughter,  he  worked  away 
in  silence. 

The  position  of  the  hut  itself  was  admirable  for  the 
purpose  of  concealment.  By  a  slight  arrangement  of  the 
bushes  it  could  be  made  entirely  to  elude  the  notice  of  any 
ordinary  observer.  The  only  difficulty  was  in  so  arrang 
ing  the  trail  as  to  induce  any  who  might  be  ID  search,  to 


102  SARATOGA. 

pass  by  it.  For  this  purpose,  he  was  careful  to  make 
distinct  footsteps  leading  past  it,  and  toward  the  brook. 
The  number  of  indications  pointing  that  way,  only  ren 
dered  the  confusion  greater;  but  while  the  trace  was 
plain,  it  would  be  rapidly  followed  up ;  and  the  pursuer 
would  only  think  of  pausing  where,  like  a  hound,  he  began 
to  lose  the  scent. 

All  these  dispositions  were  soon  made ;  and  again  he 
took  the  helpless  and  trembling  girl  into  his  arms,  to  bear 
her  away.  She  found  it  vain  to  resist,  and  more  vain  to 
entreat.  Her  earnest  beseeching,  and  irrepressible  sobs, 
were  only  met  by  wild  laughter,  or  wilder  answers  to  her 
questions.  Whither  he  was  now  going  to  take  her,  she 
could,  of  course  form  no  conception ;  but  her  startled 
imagination  pictured  to  her  beating  heart  unspeakable 
horrors.  Danger  is  always  more  formidable  when  we  are 
called  upon  to  face  it  from  out  of  slumber.  So  it  was 
now  with  her.  When  she  was  first  seized,  the  terribleness 
of  her  position  was  not  so  strongly  depicted  to  her  fancy. 
Now  she  felt  faint  with  fear,  and,  at  length,  permitted 
herself  to  be  borne  along  in  speechless  apprehension. 
Their  course  was,  at  first,  to  the  creek.  Once  in  the 
water,  however,  instead  of  following  the  current,  he  faced 
it,  and  went  in  the  opposite  direction. 

The  horrors  of  that  night-passage — her  fatigue  and 
faintness — the  thick  darkness  which  reigned  around,  the 
howl  of  pursuing  wolves,  which,  like  sharks  in  the  wake 
of  an  ill-fated  wreck,  hung  upon  their  traces,  were  too 
much  for  the  nerves  of  the  frail  and  delicately  nurtured 
girl.  She  soon  became  unconscious  in  the  arms  of  the 
maniac,  and  for  many  succeeding  hours  knew  no  more. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

SARATOGA  LAKfi. 

IT  was  past  midday  when  Walcott  and  his  Indian  com 
panion  reached  some  high  ground  overlooking  the  like. 
It  was  the  spot  which  had  been  agreed  on,  as  the  place  of 
rendezvous.  They  found  no  signs  of  the  presence  of  their 
associates,  and  every  thing  around  was  quiet  and  still. 
They  stood  upon  a  slight  knoll,  free  from  trees,  which 
commanded  a  fine  view  of  the  beautiful  sheet  of  water. 
At  this  time,  it  was  not,  as  it  is  now,  surrounded  by  a 
cultivated  country,  with  fields,  farm-houses,  and  oivLmu 
to  humanize  the  view.  A  thick  wilderness  of  green  trees 
hemmed  it  on  all  sides,  and  the  glassy  water  looked  like 
a  vast  mirror  set  in  a  frame  of  emerald.  A  summer  sun 
was  pouring  its  fervid  effulgence  over  all  the  landscape ; 
which,  as  a  wilderness,  was  no  less  pleasing  than  it  is  now. 
The  bold  promontory  of  Snake  Hill,  alone,  lifted  its  dark 
mass  in  the  distance,  to  give  any  thing  like  an  air  of  rug- 
gedncss  to  the  otherwise  gentle  picture. 

Many  years  have  since  passed  away.  The  ancient  race 
which  formerly  peopled  these  regions,  has  disappeared. 
The  land  is  occupied  by  men,  not  only  of  another  gener 
ation,  but  of  another  blood,  and  complexion — a  nation, 
powerful,  industrious,  intelligent.  Revolutions  have  taken 


104  SARATOGA. 

place  in  governments,  and  political  institutions  have  been 
overthrown ;  but  the  vast  and  noble  physical  features  of 
the  land  which  has  witnessed  these  mutations,  have  re 
mained  the  same.  Times  may,  as  the  proverb  says, 
change,  and  men  change  with  them,  but  the  lakes  still 
reflect  the  headlands ;  the  rivers  still  flow,  and  the  mount 
ains  still  stand,  almost  unchanged,  since  the  dawn  of  the 
creation. 

"I  wonder,"  said  Walcott,  "what  has  become  of 
Brigham ;  he  ought  to  be  somewhere  about,  and  should 
have  been  here  since  daylight." 

"  Him  there,"  said  the  other  quietly,  pointing  down 
the  slope  before  them,  to  a  thick  clump  of  sycamores. 

"Where?"  asked  Walcott,  as  he  looked  at  the  place 
indicated,  but  failed  to  discover  any  indications  of  his 
friends.  "  I  can  see  nothing,  I  am  sure.  Besides,  it  js 
time  for  the  others  to  be  here.  What  can  keep  them  all 
loitering  in  this  way?" 

"  All  there,"  replied  the  Indian,  again  glancing  his  eye 
at  the  spot. 

To  remove  all  doubt,  however,  they  now  walked  down 
to  the  cluster  of  trees;  and,  sure  enough,  found  them 
there,  and  all  fast  asleep.  The  ashes  of  an  extinct  fire 
was  near  them,  and  the  remnants  of  a  breakfast  of  fish 
were  still  visible.  As  Walcott  and  the  guide  came  up 
within  a  few  yards  of  the  sleepers,  they  were  accosted  by 
the  voice  of  Brigham,  who  said,  springing  to  his  feet : 

"Hooray!  Catfoot,  my  old  boy,  where  have  you  been 
all  this  while  ?  We  had  made  up  our  minds  to  leave  at 
noon,  in  case  you  did  n't  come,  and  so  detarmined  to  lie 
down  and  take  a  little  nap,  till  the  time  was  up." 

The  Indian  made  no  reply,  but  sat  down  by  the  rem- 


. 

SARATOGA    LAKE.  105 

rants  of  the  fish,  and  commenced  to  break  his  fast,  as  a 
thing  of  the  first  importance. 

"  What  are  you  in  such  a  hurry  there,  for?"  exclaimed 
Brigham,  at  this  proceeding  ;  "  are  you  so  near  starved 
that  you  can't  wait  for  something  more  to  be  cooked  ?  I 
thought  you  'd  more  control  over  your  appetite,  Catfoot." 

"  No  time  to  cook  him,"  was  the  other's  brief  reply. 

"Why  not?  But  there's  no  use  try  in'  to  get  an  ex 
planation  from  an  Indian.  Can  you,"  he  said,  turning 
to  Walcott,  "  tell  what  he  means  by  being  in  such  a  tarnal 
hurry  all  at  once  ?  If  you  've  seen  any  thing,  you  've 
done  better  than  I,  for  I'm  blowed  if  I  've  hit  upon  the 
ghost  of  a  discovery  all  night — not  so  much  as  a  giggle 
from  that  laughin'  hyener,  crazy  Jake.  Them  fellers 
there,"  pointing  to  M'Carty  and  Indian  Joe,  who  were  by 
this  time  awake,  and  had  risen  up,  "  ain't  any  wiser  than 
two  blind  cubs  afore  nine  days  is  out,  eh,  Joe  ?" 

Joe  vouchsafed  no  reply;  and  Walcott  proceeded  to 
explain,  in  detail,  the  result  of  their  night's  adventure, 
and  their  morning's  search.  Brigham  listened,  with  deep 
attention,  to  the  recital,  and,  when  it  was  ended,  he 
asked: 

"  Did  ye  happen  to  notice  there  was  a  big  pine-tree 
near  where  the  trail  led  down  to  the  kil  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Walcott,  "I  noticed  that  particularly, 
because  it  leaned  over  so  far  that  it  seemed  every  moment 
about  to  fall." 

"  There's  a  kind  of  hut  there,"  replied  Brigham ;  "and 
if  I'd  'a  had  any  notion  the  trail  led  thereabouts,  I  shouldn't 
have  passed  without  a  visit.  It  lies  at  the  foot  of  the 
tree,  and  you  would  n't  notice  it  unless  told  on't  before 
hand.  I've  a  consate  that  Jake  is  or  was  somewhere 


106  SARATOGA. 

about  there.  Catfoot' s  right ;  there's  no  time  for  cook- 
in'." 

"But,"  said  Walcott,  "we  followed  the  tracks  this 
way,  down  the  creek,  afterward.  He  couldn't  very  well 
have  stopped  there  long,  without  leaving  eome  mark, 
which  Catfoot  would  have  noticed." 

"How  was  it,  old  boy?"  said  Brigham  to  the  latter, 
"  hadn't  you  eyes  enough  to  see  the  hut?" 

"Hut  empty,"  said  the  other,  in  reply.  "Medicine 
man  been  there — gone." 

"But  about  the  trail,"  continued  Brigham,  "hotr  did 
you  happen  to  lose  it,  when  once  you  found  it  in  the  kil 
again?" 

"He  de  debbill,  don't  I  say?"  replied  the  Indian, 
testily;  "he  leave  one,  tree,  six,  four  trail.  Gone  any 
where." 

Having  said  this,  Catfoot,  who  had  now  finished  his 
meal,  or,  rather,  finished  the  fish,  rose  up,  tightened  his 
belt,  and  seemed  prepared  for  a  new  start. 

Walcott,  in  the  mean  time,  hastily  partook  of  some 
smoked  venison  which,  through  the  prudent  foresight  of 
Brigham,  had  been  brought  along.  Though  feeling  but 
little  appetite,  he  still  thought  it  best  to  avail  himself  of 
the  present  occasion,  to  make  provision  against  such 
fatigues  and  fasts  as  the  expedition  might  yet  call  upon 
him  to  undergo. 

No  sooner  had  he  finished,  than  Catfoot,  who  was 
evidently  waiting  for  nothing  else,  having  put  himself  in 
complete  marching  trim,  took  the  lead,  and  beckoned  tho 
others  to  follow. 

"  Something  is  in  the  wind,"  said  Brigham  to  Walcott, 
as  they  also  were  preparing  to  start;  "I  never  knowed 


OWL    POND.  107 

him  to  act  so  prompt-like  unless  he  had  some  good  idea 
at  the  bottom.  All  we've  now  got  to  do  is  to  foller  the 
best  way  we  can.  Come,  Mac,  you  and  Joe  must  stir 
yourselves  to  keep  up,  for  I  can  see  in  his  look  that  we're 
to  have  a  hard  pull." 

What  project  was  really  on  foot,  Walcott  could  not* 
divine;  and  the  Indian's  natural  taciturnity  and  reserve, 
when  questioned,  rendered  it  difficult  for  him  to  ascertain. 
He  had,  however,  already  sufficient  experience  of  the  skill 
of  the  Indian  to  give  him  great  confidence  in  the  pro 
priety  of  any  course  which  he  might  judge  it  expedient 
to  pursue ;  and  so,  without  comment  or  inquiry,  the  prep 
arations  for  the  departure  of  all  were  hastily  completed. 
These,  in  fact,  were  very  trifling.  A  belt  tightened,  the 
cold  food  gathered  into  a  package,  the  sheath-knife  se 
cured,  the  rifle  dropped  into  the  hollow  of  the  arm,  and 
all  were  ready. 

Away,  then,  went  Catfoot,  no  longer  with  slow  tread, 
and  searching  eye ;  but  with  the  confident  air,  and  long, 
loping  trot  of  the  American  savage,  when  upon  an 
assured  trail.  The  pace  was  not  only  rapid  but  constant 
— such  a  pace  as,  during  a  day's  journey,  would  some 
times  accomplish  more  than  the  gallop  of  a  horse. 

The  course,  for  a  short  distance,  lay  due  westward. 
Passing  over  a  few  light  hills  of  sand,  they  came  upon 
the  high  shore  of  a  dark,  deep  pond  of  water  about  half  a 
mile  in  width.  Here  they  diverged  to  the  right,  keeping 
upon  the  brow  of  the  bank.  Sheer  down  through  the 
trees  could  they  see  the  glassy  water  which  all  around  the 
border  of  the  little  lake  was  overhung  and  shaded  by  thick 
trees.  In  the  center  it  was  as  smooth  and  unruffled  as 
if  no  living  thing  occupied  its  depths.  It  was  a  gloomy 


108  SARATOGA. 

place  at  that  time ;  and  such  as  we  have  described  it,  it 
"will  be  found  at  the  present  day.  Through  this  sluggish 
pool,  one  of  the  -creeks  we  have  noticed,  flows,  in  it§  pass 
age  to  the  Lake.  ' ..  . 

Traveling  in  those  days  was  a  very  different  thing  from 
what  it  is  now,  even  without  the  aid  of  steam.  A  jour 
ney  of  four  or  five  miles,  in  a  thick  forest,  through 
swamps,  down  .slopes,  covered  with  brambles,  over  fallen 
logs,  and  across  deep  and  muddy  streams,  WAS  not  the 
labor  of  half  an  hour.  Ten  miles  of  such  traveling  often 
occupied  a  long  summer  day.  It  will  not,  therefore,  be 
surprising  that  several  hours  elapsed  before  the*  five  men 
had  come  near  to  the  place  where  the  trail  of  Jacob  had 
eluded  the  keen  eye  of  Catfoot.  Though  their  course  was 
still  direct,  they  now  moved  more  slowly.  In  some  places 
the  stream  up  which  they  traced  their  way, 'had  become 
choked  by  brush  and  fallen  trees,  and  expanded  into  small 
natural  basins  or  ponds.  As  they  were  passing  by  one 
of  these,  M'Carty  inquired: 

".  What  sort  of  fish  do  you  catch  in  these  'ere  ponds, 
Sandy?" 

."Why,  nothing  in  particular,"  replied  Brigham. 
"Bull-heads,  I  believe,  and  like  enough,  a  sucker  now 
and  then ;  but  why  dp  you  ask  ?" 

"  Because  I  see  somebody  Has  been '  down  here  fishing, 
'lately.".' 

"  Somebody  been  here  fishing?"  exclaimed  Brigham, 
coming  to- a  fall -halt,    "Halloo!  there,  you  Catfoot!  wait 
a-minute!.    Where  have  they  been  fishing,  Mac?     Let.'s    • 
see  how  you  come  to  know?"  -..  •  ;. 

Thus  appealed  to,  M'Carty  led  the  way  back  for  a  rod 
or  so,  and  pointed  out  something  that  had 


THE    SEARCH    RENEWED.  109 

the  sharp  eyes  of  the  Indians.  This  was  the  mark  of  a 
fish-pole,  set  in  the  bank.  By  the  time  they  had  begun 
to  gather  round  it,  Catfoot  also  joined  them,  and  instantly 
began  to  scrutinize  the  adjacent  ground,  in  .order  to  get 
some  further  clew  to  the  character 'of  the  fisherman.  In 
a  short  time,  -they  heard  from  him,  the  Indian  expression 
of  surprise,  uttered  with  peculiar  emphasis. 

"  Ugh  1"  said  he,  as  he  pointed  to  some  marks  upon  a 
bit  of  sand  hard  by.  Brigham  and  Walcott.  immediately 
joined  him  in  the  examination ;  but  neither  could  make 
any  thing  out  -'of  it.  Walcott,  indeed,  thought  it  bore 
some  resemblance  to  the  footprints  which  he  and  Oatfoot 
had  followed  in  the  morning ;  and  upon  turning  a  look  of 
inquiry  to  the  latter,  he  received  an  affirmative  nod. 

.All  now  set  themselves  to  see  what  more  could  be  made 
out  of  the  discovery.  The  single  indication  found,  was 
not  sufficiently  defined  to  prove  any  thing.  It  was,  there 
fore,  all-important  to  obtain  Something  more,  by  way  of 
verification.  The  impressiop  formed  might  have  been  old, 
though  it  did  not  appear  to.be  so.  But  in  the  case  of  a 
character  like  .Crazy  Jacob,  any'  sign  was  worth  atten 
tion. 

For  a  few  minutes,  the  men  spread  in  different  direc 
tions,  so  that  every  inch  of  ground  might  be  carefully  ex 
amined.  Presently,  Indian  Joe,  as  if  tired  of  the  search, 
sat  down  upon  the  limb  of  a  fallen  tree,. and  lazily  watched 
the  disappointed  looks  of  the  others,  as,  one  by  one,  they 
began  to  show  evidence  of  failure. 

"  What  are  you  sitting  there  for,  you  lazy  varmint?" 
exclaimed  Brigham,  indignantly,  as  with  much  annoyance    • 
at  his  own  want  of  success,  he  observed  the  cold  indiffer 
ence  of  the  other. 


110  SARATOGA. 

"No  good  look,"  said  Joe,  in  reply. 

This  question  and  answer  having  attracted  the  attention 
of  Catfoot,  he  walked  up  to  Joe,  scanning  his  face,  as  if 
he  was  reading  it ;  then,  laying  his  hand  upon  his  shoul 
der,  while  he  looked  him  full  in  the  eye,  he  asked : 

"Where?" 

Joe  rose  up,  and  pointed  below  the  branch  on  which 
he  sat.  There,  in  fact,  was  discernible  a  pole  and 
line  with  the  necessary  appliances  for  fishing,  of  the 
rudest  and  most  primitive  character.  They  were  at  once 
seized  upon.  On  inspection,  it  was  obvious  that  they  had 
but  recently  been  used.  The  marks  of  the  earth  upon 
the  pole  were  still  fresh.  It  was  then  carried  to  the  hole 
in  the  border  of  the  pond,  and  found  to  fit  it  exactly.  If 
then  it  had  in  reality  belonged  to  Jacob,  as  the  footprint 
in  the  sand  would  seem  to  indicate,  he  must  still  be  within 
a  short  distance.  How  had  he  left  the  spot  ?  That  was 
the  question.  He  could  not  have  flown  into  the  air ;  and 
on  earth,  almost  every  thing  leaves  a  trace  discoverable 
to  the  practiced  eye.  No  such  trace,  however,  had  yet 
been  seen,  though  already  Catfoot  had  discovered  in  the 
bed  of  the  stream  above  the  pond,  footmarks  which  led 
down  to  it.  They  corresponded  with  those  previously 
seen.  All  proved  that  Jacob  had  come  thither,  and  to 
that  extent  were  important ;  but  they  did  not  show  how 
he  had  departed.  That  question  still  remained  un- 
» solved. 

A  sudden  thought  occurred  to  Walcott.  Taking  a 
small  stick,  he  carefully  measured  the  length  and  width 
of  the  impression  they  had  first  discovered  in  the  sand, 
and  afterward  those  which  were  formed  in  the  bed  of  the 
stream.  They  differed  materially  both  in  length  and 


THE    SEARCH    CONTINUED.  Ill 

breadth.  He  also,  in  this  way,  ascertained  that  no  two 
of  them  corresponded. 

"  Brigham,"  said  he,  "  what  do  you  think  of  the  notion 
of  a  man  walking  backward  ?  It  has  occurred  to  me  as 
just  possible  in  this  case.  The  tracks  here  all  differ  in 
size ;  and  it  may  be  that  this  has  been  caused  by  an  en 
deavor  to  step  twice  in  the  same  place." 

"  A  good  idea,  by  Jove  1"  exclaimed  Brigham :  "  Cat- 
foot  !"  he  continued,  calling  to  the  latter,  "  come  this  way 
a  minute." 

As  soon  as  the  other  came  up,  Brigham,  in  order  to 
convey  his  meaning  more  readily,  walked  forward  a  short 
distance  on  a  strip  of  soft  ground,  and  then  went  back, 
step  by  step,  treading  in  his  tracks. 

The  eyes  of  the  savage  immediately  lighted  up  with 
intelligence,  and  he  placed  himself  to  re-examine  the  traces 
in  the  creek.  After  looking  hastily  at  a  few  of  them,  he 
rose  up,  saying : 

"  Good — now  we  go." 

Again  the  whole  troop  resumed  their  course,  now  quite 
confident  that  Jacob  could  be  nowhere  below  them ;  and 
full  of  hope  that,  with  the  last  clew  which  they  had  ob 
tained,  they  would  soon  be  enabled  to  find  him.  From 
time  to  time,  as  they  hastened  on,  did  they  observe  the 
old  trail,  in  or  near  the  stream.  Wherever  the  ground 
on  the  shore  was  dry  and  hard  enough  to  leave  no  trail, 
it  was  supposed,  that  the  water  had  been  left.  In  fact, 
as  a  proof  of  the  probability  of  this  theory,  in  one  place,' 
they  found  the  mark  of  a  footstep  upon  a  broad  fiat  stone, 
as  if  some  one  had  trod  upon  it,  after  coming  out  of  water. 
All  this  evidence  was  confirmatory.  The  last  fact  was 


112  SARATOGA. 

something  more  than  that;  and  was  regarded  as  proof 
positive,  for  the  track  pointed  up  the  stream. 

The  place  where  Walcott  and  the  guide  had  at  first 
followed  the  trail  to  the  brook,  was  soon  reached.  Near 
at  hand,  stood  the  large  leaning  pine-tree.  To  Walcott 
and  M'Carty,  the  discovery  of  the  embowered  hut  at  its 
base,  was  matter  of  much  surprise ;  but  the  Indians  took 
it  quite  coolly.  One,  certainly,  and  probably  both,  knew 
of  it  before.  In  fact,  Catfoot  had,  as  he  had  already  in 
timated,  examined  it  in  his  former  visit ;  but  he  had  not 
seen  fit  to  communicate  the  fact  to  his  companion.  It  was 
now  eagerly  revisited  by  all ;  but  as  neither  of  those  they 
were  in  search  of,  was  expected  to  be  there,  no  disappoint 
ment  was  felt,  at  the  place  being  found  tenantless  and 
deserted.  Catfoot,  in  a  short  time  had  again  examined 
the  different  trails  which  led  from  tfye  spot,  and  found  the 
same  evidence  of  a  return  upon  them,  which  had  been 
observed  hi  the  brook.  Indeed"  as  he  now  held  a  clew  to 
this  proceeding,  the  fact  was  quite .  obvious.  All  the 
courses  on  the  plain  above,  were  therefore,  speedily  given 
over ;  and  the  men  betook  themselves  again  to  the  water. 
They  now  turned  their  attention  to  the  examination  of  the 
upward  course  of  the  brook.  For  nearly  twenty  rods 
they  proceeded  without  discovering  any  thing.  At  last, 
as  a  reward  of  their  persevering  search,  the  trail  again 
became  visible;  and  this  time,  leading  plainly  in  the 
direction  they  were  then  pursuing. 

The  footprints,  wherever  they  could  be  seen,  differed 
from  those  they  had  been  following  all  the  morning,  in 
now  being  of  a  uniform  size.  Clearly  then,  in  this  case, 
whoever  had  passed  up  before  them,  had  not  returned ;  at 
all  events,  by  the  same  path. 


THE    SEARCH    CONTINUED.  113 

By  this  time,  the  sun  was  approaching  the  western 
horizon.  If  any  thing  satisfactory  was  to  he  accomplished 
before  it  reached  that  goal,  no  time  was  to  be  lost.  After 
nightfall,  the  pursuit  could  not  be  continued.  Walcott 
already  entertained  the  keenest  apprehensions,  as  to  the 
consequences  of  delay.  It  is  true,  that  the  missing  girl 
was  a  stranger  to  him,  except  so  far  as  a  previous  knowl 
edge  of  her  family,  and  the  casual  encounter  on  the  morn 
ing  of  the  previous  day,  may  be  said,  in  some  sort,  to 
have  made  them  acquainted.  Still  he  thought  to  himself, 
that  any  person  of  proper  feelings  would  do,  and  ought 
to  do  all  in  his  power  to  rescue  one  so  young  and  inter 
esting  from  the  dangerous  companionship  into  which  she 
had  been  forced,  or  the  frightful  fate,  whi^h  might  at  any 
moment  befall  her,  in  consequence  of  it.  All  this  might 
be  true — doubtless  was  so ;  and  yet  among  those  now 
engaged  in  the  sanfe  pursuit,  and  exerting  themselves  so 
energetically  on  h§r  behalf,  any  disinterested  person  might 
have  observed  widely  different  degrees  of  interest  in  the 
result. 

The  Indians  had  embarked  in  the  undertaking,  partly 
upon  Brigham's  persuasion,  and  partly  from  their  natural 
love  of  difficult  and  adventurous  enterprises,  in  which 
their  prowess  and  peculiar  skill  might  be  called  into  play. 
Brigham  was  chiefly  interested  on  account  of  old  Colonel 
Belden.  Why  M'Carty  was  there,  has  already  been 
shown. 

Walcott  thought  to  himself  that  his  own  conduct  was 
quite  natural ;  and  so,  in  fact,  it  was.  At  the  same  time 
the  recollection  of  the  bright  eyes,  which,  at  his  first  inter 
view  with  her,  had  shone  upon  him ;  of  the  gentle  smile 
which  had  greeted  him,  and  of  the  lithe,  pliant,  but  grace- 
8 


114  SARATOGA. 

ful  and  harmonious  form,  which  the  Canadian  pony  had 
borne  away,  contributed  not  a  little  to  warm  his  en 
thusiasm.  More  than  once  he  found  himself  dwelling 
upon  these  things,  and  he  permitted  his  fancy  to  depict 
her  now  in  attitudes  of  distress  and  supplication ;  and  the 
touching  intonation  of  her  voice,  already  vibrated,  so  to 
speak,  over  the  very  chords  of  his  heart.  In  fact,  her 
beauty,  and  real  or  imaginary  perfections,  formed,  at  the 
time,  the  material  of  his  pleasantest  thoughts ;  while  the 
fright  and  suffering,  which  in  all  probability  she  now 
underwent,  and  the  imminent  peril  which  hung  over  her, 
formed  a  stimulus  to  exertion,  which  drove  all  ideas  of 
hesitation  from  his  mind,  and  all  fatigue  from  his  limbs. 

It  was  remarkable,  and  so  it  appeared  to  all,  that  Jacob 
should  have  pursued  a  course  which  must  very  soon  have 
brought  him  to,  or  near  the  Rock  Spring.  It  was  not 
imagined  that  he  would  thus  voluntarily  seek  the  vicinity 
of  the  friends  of  his  prisoner;  and  the  pursuers,  now,  at 
every  moment,  anticipated  that  the  trail  would  lead  away 
in  some  other  direction.  Such,  however,  was  not  the 
case.  It  continued  to  point  directly  on.  Soon,  in  fact, 
the  smoke  of  Brigham's  log  hut,  began  to  be  visible, 
above  the  trees ;  and  the  distant  bark  of  dogs,  at  inter 
vals  disturbed  the  stillness  of  the  evening  air. 

Lower  and  lower,  sunk  the  descending  sun,  and  as  the 
space  between  it  and  the  western  horizon  grew  less,  the 
anxiety  of  those  who  felt  a  personal  interest  in  the  recov 
ery  of  the  abducted  girl,  grew  more  and  more  intense. 
More  than  twenty-four  hours  had  already  elapsed  since 
her  disappearance ;  and  the  moods  of  insanity  during  this 
long  interval  might  have  devised  a  thousand  reasons  for 
her  destruction. 


THE   CIRCUIT   COMPLETED.  115 

The  condition  of  Colonel  Belden  and  his  daughter,  in 
the  mean  time,  had  been  one  of  anxiety  and  apprehension, 
which  grew  deeper,  as  time  wore  away,  and  brought  no 
information,  and  no  grounds  for  hope. 

The  sun  was  near  setting  as  those  who  had  been  en 
gaged  in  the  search  came  again  in  sight  of  their  point  of 
departure.  All  this  round  appeared  to  have  been  run  to 
no  purpose.  They  might  not  now  be  nearer  their  object 
than  when  they  started.  But  yet  they  brought  back 
with  them  a  trace  or  clew,  slight  enough  to  be  sure,  but 
one  which  they  hoped  to  follow  up  to  some  issue. 

The  course  pursued  by  Jacob  did  not  ascend  the  side 
of  the  valley  or  swale,  so  as  to  go  near  the  cabin ;  but 
continued  on  the  line  of  the  stream,  till  it  led  fully  past 
it.  Here  the  party  halted.  They  had  already,  for  some 
time,  been  seen  and  recognized  from  the  house ;  and  the 
old*  man  was  well-nigh  giving  way  to  despair  when  he 
saw  them  thus  returning  without  his  protegee,  and,  as  he 
imagined,  without  the  design  or  the  inclination,  to  con 
tinue  the  pursuit  further.  But  he  was  no  less  astonished 
than  they  had  been,  when  he  found  that  it  was  the  trail 
itself,  which  had  brought  them  thus  strangely  back  to 
their  starting-point. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

POUND,     BUT     NOT     CAUGHT. 

"WELL,  colonel,"  said  Brigham,  after  a  long  discus 
sion,  "  I  suppose  you  may  be  right  that  the  gal  is  made 
way  with;  and  in  particular,  as  we  hain't  lately  seen  no 
signs  on  her.  But  whether  that's  so  or  not,  I'm  de 
termined,  for  one,  to  get  at  the  bottom  of  the  matter,  and 
to  cage  this  wild  varmint,  if  we  do  no  more.  He  ain't 
fit  to  be  loose.  And  so,  whether  any  body  else  keeps  on 
or  not,  I  mean  to  follow  up  the  chase." 

"Why,"  exclaimed  Walcott,  "you  don't  for  a  moment 
suppose  that  any  of  us  mean  to  abandon  the  poor  girl,  do 
you?" 

"  As  for  that,  every  man  must  make  up  his  own  mind. 
I've  my  own  notions  as  to  whether  we  shall  find  her  alive 
if  at  all ;  and  most  likely  so  has  most  on  us.  Maybe  she 
will  turn  up,  and  maybe  not.  Not  seeing  any  tracks  of 
her  lately,  I  confess,  is  rather  a  bad  sign." 

"That  proves  nothing,"  said  Walcott,  "she  has  not 
walked ;  she  could  not,  of  course,  keep  up  with  Jacob  in 
traveling  through  the  woods,  and  he  is  strong  enough  to 
carry  her  anywhere ;  and  that  too,  at  a  pace  that  you  or 
I  could  hardly  equal.  Besides  we  have  not  seen  any  sign 
or  evidence  of  violence  anywhere ;  and  a  murder  leaves 
upon  the  earth,  marks  deeper  and  plainer  than  footsteps 


HIQH   ROCK   SPRING.  117 

in  the  sand.  I'll  not  give  over  the  search,  while  I've  a 
foot  left  to  travel  on — so  there's  two  of  us." 

"  Catfoot,"  said  Brigham,  "  what  do  you  say?  You 
are  worth  all  on. us,  at  a  pinch ;  and,  old  fellow,  if  you'll 
just  stand  by  us  now,  for  old  acquaintance'  sake,  why,  you 
know,  I'll  make  it  up  to  you  some  other  time." 

"  Good,"  replied  the  Indian.  "  Catfoot  no  want  sleep 
like  squaw — always  hunt  with  his  brother." 

"Iknowed  you'd  do  it.  You're  clear  grit;  and  I'd 
do  as  much  for  you,"  answered  Brigham,  his  face  flushing 
with  pleasure :  "So  now  we  are  coming  on,  and  if  Joe 
and  Jim  here  will  join  us,  we'll  be  all  right." 

"  In  course,  we're  ready,  if  you  are,  Sandy,"  replied 
M'Carty ;  "  and  so  you'd  better  see  what  .can  be  done  afore 
dark." 

Upon  this  the  pursuit  was  again  resumed.  The  trail 
was  traceable  for  a  short  distance,  when  it  entirely  dis 
appeared.  At  the  suggestion  of  Catfoot  the  party  now 
separated;  and  M'Carty,  Joe,  and  Brigham,  each  going 
off  different  ways,  took  up  positions  that,  in  some  sort, 
enabled  them  to  surround  the  spot  where  the  trace  was 
lost.  This  was  done  in  consequence  of  the  information 
which  Colonel  Belden  had  communicated  in  regard  to  the 
strange  noise  and  laughter  which  he  had  heard  near 
there,  during  the  preceding  night. 

At  this  point  the  whole  of  the  valley  of  the  creek  was 
occupied  by  a  dense  thicket  of  alder,  with  here  and  there 
clusters  of  wild  scrubby  tamaracks ;  and  it  was  not  un 
reasonably  supposed  that  Jacob's  actual  place  of  conceal 
ment  might  be  here,  or  near  at  hand. 

While  this  movement  was  taking  place,  arid  while  Wal- 
cott  was  busily  scanning  the  brake,  Catfoot  had  held  him- 


118  SARATOGA. 

self  apart,  and  was  considering  the  ground,  which  being 
on  the  west  side  open  and  free  from  trees  and  brush,  ex 
tended  from  the  brook  to  the  margin  of  the  valley.  This 
open  ground  was  about  six  rods  in  width,  and  about  a 
hundred  yards  long.  Its  inclination  was  very  slight,  and 
it  might  almost  have  been  called  a  level.  Along  the 
creek  was  a  fringe  of  willows,  through  which  the  water 
could  be  seen  sparkling  by  day,  and  from  which  its  low 
ripple  could  be  heard  by  night.  In  the  midst  of  this 
natural  court,  thus  walled  and  hedged  in  by  a  steep  bank 
on  the  one  side  and  by  a  stream  and  close  copse  on  the 
other,  stood,  what  in  those  days  was  an  object  of  almost 
superstitious  wonder,  and  what,  in  our  time,  is  still  one 
of  scientific  curiosity. 

A  few  paces  from  the  bottom  of  the  ledge  was  a  large 
rock,  hi  shape  much  like  a  common  hay-rick,  but  only 
about  four  feet  in  height,  by,  perhaps,  five  in  diameter. 
Down  through  its  apex  was  a  round  hole  about  six 
inches  across,  through  which  came  welling  forth  a  column 
of  limpid  and  sparkling  water,  that  poured  in  all  direc 
tions  over  the  lips  of  this  natural  well,  and  kept  the  sides 
of  the  rock  laved  with  its  ceaseless  flow.  At  times  the 
stream  came  up  in  beats  or  pulsations,  so  as  to  seem  not 
unlike  blood  flowing  from  an  opened  artery.  All  around 
it  the  ground  was  much  trodden  by  the  feet  of  wild  ani 
mals,  who  were,  apparently,  in  the  habit  of  coming  there 
to  drink,  just  as  domestic  cattle  will  gather  round  a  pump 
and  trough. 

A  little  to  the  northward  of  this,  at  the  time  of  which 
we  speak,  was  the  white  canvas  of  an  old  military  tent, 
which  was  then  unoccupied,  but  which  gave  token  of 
recent  habitation. 


SCHUYLER   S    TENT.  119 

This  was  none  other  than  the  marquee  which  General 
Philip  Schuyler  had  caused  to  be  pitched  upon  that  spot, 
for  the  accommodation  of  himself  and  his  family,  when  he 
chose  to  visit  this  celebrated  spring.  Such  a  visit  he  had 
made  only  a  day  or  so  before  the  events  of  our  story ;  and 
from  the  fact  that  the  tent  had  been  left  standing,  it  was 
supposed  that  he  or  some  of  his  friends  might  be  seen 
there  again  within  a  short  time. 

As  the  sun  sank  behind  a  heavy  bank  of  clouds  in  the 
west,  its  last  rays  illuminated  the  tall  ridge  pole  and  the 
white  canvas-top  of  the  tent,  while  they  shone  full  upon 
the  high  green  pines  which  shot  their  tall  shafts  into  the 
air  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  swale.  In  the  interval  lay 
the  alder  marsh,  now  dull  and  shadowy,  but  alive  with 
the  hoarse  croak  of  frogs,  and  the  wild  and  peculiar  whir 
of  countless  camelion  toads.  The  approach  of  evening, 
or  of  a  summer  storm  never  fails  to  call  forth  these 
lugubrious  sounds. 

Quietly  but  keenly  did  the  eye  of  the  Indian  peruse, 
in  the  open  ground,  each  visible  object  and  mark  ;  for,  to 
him,  they  seemed  as  significant  and  full  of  meaning  as  to 
a  scholar  are  the  printed  words  upon  the  page  of  a  book. 
He  was  absorbed  in  deep  reverie.  Unlike  the  others,  he 
paid  but  little  attention  to  the  alder  thicket.  For  some' 
reasons  of  his  own  he  appeared  either  to  doubt  its  being 
the  place  of  the  lunatic's  retreat,  or  to  have  sufficient  con 
fidence  in  the  dispositions  already  made,  to  prevent  his 
escape  from  it  in  case  he  should  be  there.  After  some 
moments  of  consideration  he  slowly  passed  over  the  little 
slope  to  the  base  of  the  ledge,  where  the  ground  was  more 
or  loss  covered  with  broken  stones  and  rotten  sticks.  Here 
his  attention  became  again  fixed ;  but  after  a  short  pause 


120  SARATOGA. 

he  began,  like  a  hound  recovering  the  scent,  to  move 
slowly  along  in  a  southerly  direction,  keeping  his  eyes 
riveted  upon  the  ground.  Having  gone  in  this  manner 
for  five  or  six  rods,  he  was  compelled  again  to  pause ;  for 
the  real  or  imaginary  trace  which  he  had  just  followed, 
again  became  invisible.  But  this  hesitation  was  only 
transient,  for  the  lost  thread  was  soon  recovered,  and  now 
so  plainly  and  unmistakably  as  to  bring  him  to  a  full 
stop,  and  to  cause  him  to  utter  an  exclamation  of  sur 
prise.  He  even,  by  a  cry  or  whoop,  gave  notice  to  the 
others  that  he  had  come  upon  something  unusual.  They 
soon  gathered  upon  the  spot ;  and  he  pointed  out  to  them 
where  a  man  had  trodden  upon  a  bit  of  yielding  sod,  just 
above  where  they  stood.  It  was  plainly  Jacob's  footstep. 
Its  size  arid  shape  were  sufficient  proofs  of  the  fact ;  and 
they  had  now  studied  it  enough  to  be  quite  confident.  It 
led  still  up  the  bank  which,  at  this  place,  was  not  very 
precipitous,  and  along  which  lay  the  decaying  trunk  of  a 
large  tree,  which  years  before  had  fallen  slopingly  down 
the  declivity. 

Catfoot  and  Walcott  instantly  and  eagerly  followed  up 
the  trace,  but  could  not  find  it  beyond  the  prostrate  tree. 
They  carefully  examined  the  trunk  itself,  to  ascertain 
whether  or  not  he  had  scrambled  along  upon  it,  and 
reached  the  level  ground  above,  in  that  way.  No  evi 
dence  of  such  a  proceeding,  however,  could  they  detect, 
after  the  closest  scrutiny. 

They,  therefore,  turned  back  to  make  a  re-examination. 
The  old  log,  at  the  point  where  they  first  approached  it, 
was,  in  consequence  of  the  peculiar  way  in  which  it  had 
fallen,  and  of  a  concavity  in  the  ground,  nearly  as  high 
as  a  man's  breast ;  and  beneath  it,  was  a  sort  of  lattice- 


FOUND,    BUT    NOT    CAUGHT.  121 

work  of  bushes,  so  thick  as  to  be  impenetrable  to  the  eye. 
Catfoot,  kneeling  down,  put  these  aside,  and  peered 
through.  In  this  attitude,  he  remained  for  some  seconds. 
Then,  to  the  amazement  of  Walcott,  he  seemed  suddenly 
to  be  seized  with  a  strange  tremor,  and  to  be  laboring  un 
der  some  violent  agitation.  His  eyes  became  fixed,  dilated, 
and  glaring ;  and  his  whole  countenance  for  a  single  mo 
ment,  gave  token  either  of  great  pain  or  great  fear.  These 
signs  of  emotion,  in  one  of  his  race  and  temperamenti 
were  all  the  more  remarkable.  Walcott,  therefore,  to 
clear  up  the  matter,  thrust  his  companion  aside ;  and  look 
ing  through  the  bushes  himself,  saw  there  perched  like  an 
ill-omened  bird,  in  a  hollow  of  the  rock,  the  fantastic 
figure  of  Jacob  himself.  In  the  deep  shadow  where  he 
sat,  his  form  and  proportions  looked  gigantic;  and  his 
great  wild  eyes,  sparkling  with  excitement,  as  he  watched 
his  pursuers,  wore  an  expression  of  malice,  mockery,  and 
menace.  No  wonder  the  courage  of  the  Indian  had  failed 
him.  The  apparition  appeared  to  his  excited  fancy  super 
human,  and  appealed  to  those  sentiments  out  of  which 
alone  all  his  fears  arose.  The  danger  also  was  not  un 
real;  for  Jacob  was  within  striking  distance,  and  was 
crouched  like  a  tiger,  preparing  for  a  spring,  or  like  a 
coiled  rattlesnake  just  drawing  back  in  order  to  make  the 
dart  of  its  fangs  more  fatal. 

The  moment,  however,  that  his  eye  met  that  of  Wal 
cott,  his  whole  attitude  changed ;  and  uttering  a  loud  cry, 
he  flung  himself  backward  in  the  darkness,  and  disap 
peared.  It  was  done  so  suddenly  that  he  seemed  to  have 
sank  in  the  earth.  For  an  instant,  but  for  an  instant  only, 
did  Walcott  pause ;  then,  tearing  aside  the  brush,  and 
springing  under,  he  succeeded  in  rolling  the  old  tree  from 


122  SARATOGA. 

its  position.  Beyond  it  was  then  disclosed  the  narrow 
entrance  of  a  cavern. 

During  this  time.  "Walcott  had  been  closely  followed 
and  actively  assisted  by  his  companion,  who,  when  the 
first  trammels  of  his  superstitious  fears  gave  way,  had  re 
covered  his  self-possession  as  if  by  a  rebound. 

The  remainder  of  the  party  were  now  called,  and  soon 
gathered  upon  the  spot. 

"  We've  got  him  at  last,  I  think,  Brigham,"  said  Wal 
cott,  as  the  others  came  up. 

"  I  heard  his  yell  from  t'other  side  of  the  mash,"  re 
plied  Brigham ;  " but  where  on  earth  is  he?" 

" Not  on  earth  at  all,"  answered  the  young  man ;  "for 
unless  he  is  a  wizard,  he  disappeared  down  that  dark  hole 
there." 

Brigham  then  approached  the  opening,  and  with  a  long 
stick,  sought  to  sound  its  depths. 

"It's  big  enough  for  sartain,"  he  said,  after  having 
vainly  sought  to  find  its  bottom. 

"  He's  as  bad  as  a  four-footed  varmint,"  said  M'Carty, 
"to  crawl  into  such  a  burrow;  he  can't  be  much  better 
than  a  woodchuck,  though  he's  got  the  cunnin'  of  a  fox  ; 
and  I  dare  say  he'll  die  game.  We'll  have  to  get  our 
shootin'  irons  ready  in  this  case." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  shooting  irons,  M'Carty?" 
asked  Walcott;  "  we  are  not  about  to  shoot  him  as  if  he 
was  a  beast,  notwithstanding  your  comparisons." 

"  Well  now,  that's  odd,  any  how,"  answered  M'Carty; 
"  I  should  say,  for  one,  that  a  critter  as  made  away  with 
a  young  woman,  where  nobody  could  find  her  ;  and  like 
enough  has  eaten  her  half  up  by  this  time,  could  n't  bo 
no  better  than  a  cannibal,  which  I  take  to  be  next  thing 


FOUND,     BUT    NOT    CAUGHT.  123 

to  an  animal.  And  I  daro  say  Sandy  there  is  of  my 
notion." 

"Pooh!  M'Carty,"  answered  Walcott;  "let  us  hope 
that  the  poor  girl  is  still  safe  and  unharmed  somewhere ; 
and  at  all  event,  whether  Jacob  is  a  cannibal  or  not,  we 
must  use  no  fire-arms,  nor  commit  any  unnecessary  act 
of  cruelty.  Taken  he  certainly  shall  be,  and  well  secured. 
But  for  the  present,  we  must  think  more  of  his  prisoner 
than  of  him.  Has  any  body  here  any  notion  of  the  ex 
tent  of  this  hole  ?" 

"  Why,  as  for  that,"  replied  Brigham,  shifting  his 
quid  of  tobacco  from  one  cheek  to  the  other;  "I've  heern 
tell  of  something  about  this  cave  afore,  but  never  made 
no  account  on't.  In  fact,  I  did  n't  know  where  the  mouth 
was,  and  did  n't  believe  in  it.  Hows'ever,  if  all  the  rest 
they  tell  about  it,  be  true,  the  place  is  sartainly  big 
enough,  and  not  onpleasant  neither,  when  once  you  get  in 
there.  Great  rooms  filled  with  crystils  and  dimings,  and 
sich  like ;  and,  may  be,  gold,  for  all  I  know.  All  this,  I 
take  to  be  nonsense ;  but  what  we  know  for  sartain  is, 
that  here's  a  real  hole,  with  the  man  we're  in  search  of, 
inside  of  it.  But  still  I  consate  we  sha'n't  find  the  young 
woman  alive,  and  shouldn't  be  surprised  to  find  Mac's 
notion  half  true." 

"  From  all  this,  it  would  seem  that  the  place  is  extens 
ive  enough  to  hide  Jacob,  unless  he  is  carefully  sought 
with  torches,"  answered  Walcott.  "It  is  lucky  we  got 
here  before  dark ;  for  once  inside  the  cavern,  night  is  as 
good  as  day;  and  so,  we  shall  lose  no  time.  Where  can 
we  procure  lights?" 

"Plenty  of  pitch  pine  up  at  the  house,"  replied 
Brigham;  "  M'Carty,  do  you  and  Joe  go  up  and  bring 


124  SARATOGA. 

down  a  lot  of  it.  But  I'm  thinking,  Mr.  Arthur,  we  had 
all  on  us  better  take  a  bite  of  something  to  eat  before 
venturin'  further.  I  feel  a  mighty  cravin'  myself." 

"Well,"  said  Walcott,  "perhaps  you  are  right.  We 
have  now  got  all  sure,  and  as  a  few  minutes  can  probably 
make  go  great  difference,  do  you  all  go  up  and  get  some 
thing  to  sustain  your  strength.  I  feel  no  need  of  it  my 
self,  and  but  little  appetite." 

"  That  won't  do,  Mr.  Arthur,"  said  Brigham ;  "  either 
you  go  up,  or  we  all  stay.  M'Carty  here  can  watch  in 
the  mean  time ;  and,  especially,  as  we  sha'  n't  want  him  or 
Joe,  any  more  to-night,  in  all  likelihood,  as  three  on  us 
will  be  enough  to  go  into  the  cave." 

This  arrangement  was,  accordingly,  concluded  upon. 
M'Carty  and  Indian  Joe,  for  the  present,  remained  where 
they  were,  to  prevent  an  escape ;  while  the  others  went 
to  Brigham' s  cabin,  to  procure  food,  and  the  necessary 
lights. 

By  this  time,  darkness  had  begun  to  spread  over  the 
landscape.  The  woods  had  become  shadowy,  and  the 
pathways  dim.  The  pursuers  had  not  been  in  the  slight 
est  degree,  too  eager ;  nor  had  they  arrived  at  the  mouth 
of  the  cavern  one  moment  too  soon.  In  a  very  short  time 
later,  the  trail  which  led  to  it,  could  not  have  been  traced ; 
and  in  that  event,  the  evening  of  the  second  day  would 
have  left  them  in  as  much  doubt  and  uncertainty,  as  that 
of  the  day  before. 

Anxious  were  the  faces  which  met  them  at  the  door  of 
the  house.  The  colonel  and  his  daughter  were  eager  to 
know  the  meaning  and  results  of  the  noises  they  had 
heard,  and  the  movements  they  had  witnessed.  A  few 
words  sufficed  to  apprise  them  of  all.  Still  the  great 


FOUND,     BUT    NOT    CAUGHT.  125 

problem  remained  unsolved.  The  fate  of  Lucile,  and  not 
the  pursuit  and  capture  of  Jacob,  was  uppermost  in  their 
thoughts,  and  weighed  upon  their  hearts.  They  enter 
tained  none  but  the  gloomiest  anticipations. 

The  old  gentleman  thoughtfully  and  sadly  paced  the 
floor  of  the  apartment ;  while  Marion,  after  many  fruitless 
endeavors  to  glean  some  materials  for  hope  out  of  the 
events  of  the  day,  could  not  repress  a  few  tears,  born  of 
fear  and  anxiety. 

During  this  while,  all  the  others,  save  Walcott,  had 
been  busy  in  satisfying  an  appetite  whetted  to  a  keen 
edge  by  eight  or  nine  hours  of  continued  exertion  in  the 
woods.  The  young  man,  as  he  had  said,  really  felt  but 
little  inclination  for  food ;  and  he  was  only  persuaded  to 
partake  of  a  morsel,  just  as  they  were  about  to  start. 
Meanwhile,  he  had  remained  silent  and  thoughtful.  To 
Marion,  he  proffered  none  of  those  sympathetic  attentions 
which,  considering  their  relations  to  each  other,  might 
under  present  circumstances  have  been  looked  for.  Their 
want,  however,  was  neither  felt  or  observed  by  her.  Each 
was  pre-occupied  by  special  subjects  of  anxiety,  and  gave 
no  heed  to  the  conduct  of  the  other. 

Meanwhile,  Brigham  had  gathered  together,  and  pre 
pared,  the  material  which  would  be  needed  in  their  con 
templated  subterranean  search.  When  every  thing  was 
ready  (and  all  had  passed  with  rapidity)  the  three  men 
left  the  cabin  to  repair  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave  in  order 
to  relieve  their  temporary  sentinels,  and  to  commence 
their  operations.  They  were  provided  with  bundles  of 
pine  roots,  and  knots,  for  torches,  with  cords  and  ropes ; 
and,  notwithstanding  what  Walcott  had  said,  with  fire 
arms,  to  be  used  in  a  case  of  emergency. 


126  SARATOGA. 

Soon  after  starting,  they  heard  from  the  valley  below, 
and  in  the  direction  in  which  they  were  going,  a  violent 
stamping  of  feet,  a  sort  of  scuffling  sound  as  of  men  strug 
gling  together,  and  then  a  half  suppressed  cry  for  help. 
They  immediately  hurried  forward,  but  had  taken  only  a 
few  steps,  before  meeting  Indian  Joe,  who  came  up  to 
them  so  panic-stricken,  that  he  was  at  first  unable  to  ex 
plain  what  had  happened.  He,  however,  immediately 
turned  about,  and  beckoned  them  to  follow  him.  Down 
the  bank,  they  all  accordingly  rushed.  "When  they 
arrived  near  the  opening  of  the  cavern,  they  saw  a  dark 
object  rising  from  the  ground,  which  on  examination, 
proved  to  be  the  form  of  M'Carty. 

To  explain  what  had  occurred,  we  are  compelled  to 
recur  to  the  time  when  the  others  had  gone  up  to  the 
house. 

When  M'Carty  and  his  companion  had  found  themselves 
alone,  they  sat  down  quietly  on  the  tree,  which  had  been 
rolled  from  the  mouth  of  the  hole ;  and  prepared  to  spend 
their  time  as  agreeably  as  possible,  in  conversation  and  in 
smoking. 

"  Well,"  said  Jim,  "  whatever  becomes  of  the  gal, 
we  've  got  the  old  one  fast,  for  a  while,  any  way.  But, 
Joe  !  I  say,  do  you  know  where  this  hole  leads  to  ?" 

Joe  raised  his  arm,  and  pointed  away  in  a  westerly 
direction,  saying: 

"Mile  off." 

"  Come,  old  boy,  that's  a  whopper  to  tell  to  a  man  like 
me,"  replied  M'Carty ;  "I  rather  reckon  it's  some  fox-hole, 
dug,  perhaps,  in  the  days  of  Noah,  when  foxes,  by  all 
accounts,  was  bigger  than  they  are  now." 


POUND,     BUT    NOT    CAUGHT.  127 

"  Fox  nebber  make  dis  hole,"  said  Joe,  by  way  of  re 
joinder. 

"  And  why  not?"  asked  the  other.  "  l5o  you  suppose 
the  varmints  of  the  Bible  couldn't  do  more  than  the  puny 
critters  of  our  days  ?  It 's  a  most  onchristian  notion  of 
yourn,  Joe,  if  you  think  so;  and  you  ought  to  have  a 
regular  missionary  to  larn  you  better." 

"Fox  nebber  dig  trough  big  stone,"  was  the  pertina 
cious  reply  of  the  Indian. 

"  And  how  far  into  the  arth,"  said  M'Carty,  "  do  you 
mean  to  say  the  cussed  tunnel  goes  to  ?  You  talk  about 
its  going  through  big  stun  as  if  you'd  been  inside,  and 
knowed  all  about  it." 

"  Bin  in — bin  trough,"  answered  Joe. 

"  Through  to  what  ?"  asked  M'Carty. 

"  To  t'other  hole— mile  off,"  was  the  answer. 

"  All  gammon,  my  old  chap,"  said  the  other;  "that 
'ud  be  a  pretty  story  to  tell.  A  hole  under  ground  a 
mile  long,  and  comin'  out,  goodness  knows  where  in  the 
woods  !  Don't  try  it  again,  I  tell  you.  I  should  rather 
say  that  old  Jake  just  crep  in  here  for  a  short  hide ;  and 
like  enough  he  and  the  old  fox  is  havin'  a  row  to  see 
who's  boss." 

"  Tell  you,  no  fox,"  said  Joe.  "  Big  hole — take  in  wig 
wam — high  as  tree,  and  full  of  glass." 

"Joe,"  said  M'Carty;  "you're  in  liquor.  Tell  us 
where  you  got  it,  for  I'm  rather  dry  myself." 

"No  whisky,  tell  you!  where  you  s'pose  get  him?" 
testily  answered  the  Indian,  now  getting  excited  at  the 
bare  idea  that  such  a  luxury  should  be  supposed  to  have 
been  near  him.  "  Dis  captain  nebber  hab  whisky — ho 
good  hunt,  but  big  fool." 


V 

128  SARATOGA. 

"There  you're  right,  old  feller,"  answered  M'Carty, 
"whatever  you  may  say  about  the  woodchuck  hole  here; 
to  my  notion  it 's  not  sensible  to  be  out  in  the  woods  with 
out  something  to  drink ;  and  if  I  had  my  way,  I'd  always 
carry  whisky;  and  if  I  couldn't  get  that,  then  I'd  have 
brandy;  or,  as  the  Canucks  calls  it,  '  Oh  Davy.'  ':i  (Eau 
de  vie.) 

"  Oh  Davy  better  than  whisky,"  said  Joe,  now  en 
tering  into  the  spirit  of  the  discussion. 

"  That's  your  ignorance,  and  Indian  larnin',"  answered 
M'Carty.  "Why,  you  ought  to  know  that  'Oh  Davy' 
is  nothin'  but  French  whisky  arter  all ;  and  a  man  can 't 
fairly  get  drunk  on  it  without  an  interpreter." 

"Wish  had  him,  though,"  said  Joe,  "  try  him  hard." 

"Why,  old  boy,"  said  Jim,  "you  talk  nothin'  but 
sense  ever  since  you  left  off  gabblin'  about  this  mouse-trap 
of  a  hole.  Wish  you  had  him,  do  you  ?  Well,  there  's 
two  on  us  in  the  same  way;  though,  as  I  was  say  in', 
whisky  is  better  and  more  natural  unless,  perhaps,  when 
a  man's  a  foreigner.  But,  heigho  !  there's  no  use  talkin' 
about  such  things,  when  we  can 't  get  'em.  So  we'd  bet 
ter  speak  agin  about  your  whopper  of  a  story  about  the 
toad-hole  there." 

"  Better  look  and  see  toad  no  jump,"  said  Joe,  feeling 
a  little  spiteful  at  his  companion's  incredulity. 

"How,  jump?"  asked  M'Carty.  "But,  now  that  I 
think  of  it,  old  Jake  must  have  got  the  better  of  the  fox 
and  scared  him  out,  to  judge  by  the  scratchin'  we  hear 
inside." 

"Look  sharp — told  you  so  before,"  still  said  the  In 
dian. 

"  Why,  Joe,"  said  the  other,  "  to  my  thinkin'  the  old 


AN    ENCOUNTER.  129 

chap  would  n't  like  a  tussle  with  me  the  second  time,  and 
in  particular  when  you  're  by  to  lend  a  hand  at  a  pinch. 
So  never  fear.  He  took  an  onfair  advantage  on  me  be 
fore  ;  but  let  him  try  it  again." 

At  that  moment  the  speech  of  M'Carty  was  interrupted 
by  the  sight  of  a  dark  object  which  suddenly  issued  from 
the  cave,  and  striking  against  the  burly  figure  of  Indian 
Joe,  sent  it  rolling  down  the  hill  like  a  sack  of  sand. 
M'Carty  was  not  lacking  either  in  activity  or  courage. 
He  instantly  sprang  at  the  form  which  caused  the  mis 
chief  ;  and,  at  once  found  himself  grappling  with  his  old 
enemy,  the  lunatic.  He  practiced  upon  him  all  his  tricks 
of  wrestling,  and  put  forth  his  utmost  strength ;  but  every 
thing  was  unavailing.  In  a  twinkling  he  felt  himself 
borne  down  the  bank,  and  flung  with  violence  upon  the 
ground  below.  It  was  at  this  moment  that  he  had  uttered 
a  half-suppressed  cry. 

When  he  recovered  from  the  shock  and  rose  up,  he 
found  that  his  opponent  had  disappeared ;  and  that  torches 
were  approaching  from  the  house. 
9 


CHAPTER    X. 

THE     CAVERN. 

"WHAT  on  'arth  can  be  the  matter  with  M'Carty?" 
exclaimed  Brigham,  coming  up.  "Why  are  you  rolling 
there,  like  a  fly-bitten  horse  ?  Could  n't  you  get  exercise 
enough  in  eighteen  hours'  run?  But,  I  say,  this  looks 
queer.  I'm  blessed  if  I  don't  think  they  've  let  the  crit 
ter  out  of  the  hole!" 

Meanwhile,  the  new-comers  gathered  around  their  crest 
fallen  comrade,  who,  with  looks  half  foolish  and  half  sulky, 
was  still  unwilling  to  confess  that  he  had  been,  for  a  second 
time,  foiled  and  worsted. 

"How  did  it  all  happen?"  asked  Walcott,  perceiving 
that  Brigham's  conjecture  was  not  unlikely  to  be  true : 
"  I  thought  you  was  too  old  a  soldier  to  be  caught  nap 
ping  at  your  post." 

"  There's  no  soldiering,  and  no  napping  in  the  case," 
answered  M'Carty :  "  Joe,  there,  can  tell  you  that  he 
pitched  him  down  the  hill  like  an  empty  barrel.  Tit  for 
tat,  thought  I,  and  so,  I  pitched  into  him.  But  what's 
the  use  trying  falls  with  the  devil  ?  Before  I  could  get 
one  good  grip,  he  was  off,  like  a  great  black  hawk ;  and 
there's  the  whole  on't." 

"  But  he  didn't  by  any  chance,  carry  off  the  girl  with 
him  again,  did  he?''  asked  Walcott. 


THE    CAVERN.  181 

"  How  was  it,  Joe  ?  for  I'm  blessed  if  I  got  sight  of 
anything,"  said  M'Carty. 

"  No  got  squaw  this  time,"  said  Joe. 

"Well,  that's  satisfactory,  any  how,"  broke  in  Brig- 
ham;  "we'll  now  have  a  clear  field  to  go  into  this  dog 
hole  of  a  den  of  his  ;  though  I'm  still  thinkin'  it  ain't  of 
much  use." 

Preparations  were  now  accordingly  made  to  engage  in 
that  enterprise.  The  pursuit  and  capture  of  the  lunatic, 
not  being  of  such  immediate  importance,  was  deferred  to 
another  time. 

Long  before  this,  it  had  become  completely  dark.  The 
tall  trees  and  thick  bushes,  around  the  spot  where  the 
party  stood,  were  lighted  up  by  the  red  glare  of  the 
torches  which  they  bore.  The  rough  rocks  and  equally 
rough  faces  of  the  men,  were  also,  now  and  then,  illumi 
nated  by  them.  The  scene  might  perhaps  have  been 
called  picturesque.  In  the  distant  woods  could  be  heard 
as  usual,  the  howl  of  the  wolf,  the  low  hooting  of  the 
owl,  and  the  far  off  wail  of  the  catamount.  Near  at 
hand,  all  the  thicket  and  marshes  were  alive  with  other 
wild  sounds,  not  so  loud,  but  equally  harsh  and  discord 
ant.  In  the  midst  of  the  ceaseless  din,  which  rolled  upon 
the  ear  like  uninterrupted  platoon  firing  in  a  great  battle, 
could  occasionally  be  distinguished  a  loud,  but  retreating 
shout  of  laughter,  which  there  was  no  difficulty  in  at 
tributing  to  the  escaped  maniac.  It  seemed  more  inhu 
man  and  fearful  than  any  other  of  the  sounds  which  dis 
turbed  the  night. 

But  these  things  were  scarcely  heeded  by  those  whoso 
operations  we  are  endeavoring  to  trace.  With  the  ex 
ception  of  Walcott,  none  there  present  had,  for  such 


13?  SARATOGA. 

seen  ,  the  least  appreciative  taste.  And  even  upon  him, 
there  was  made  at  the  time  but  a  slight  impression — an 
impression  then  immediately  forgotten,  but  long  afterward 
recalled  in  full  force,  and  remembered  in  all  its  details. 

The  three  men  now  crawled  into  the  cavern ;  for 
M'Carty  and  Indian  Joe,  not  being  needed  there,  were  left 
behind,  and  had  it  in  charge  simply  to  watch  the  entrance 
so  as  to  prevent  Jacob  from  going  in  again.  The  others 
groped  their  way  onward  without  any  apprehension,  as 
they  had  left  Jacob,  the  only  formidable  obstacle,  behind 
them.  The  opening  at  first  descended  at  an  angle  of 
about  forty-five  degrees  for  nearly  ten  feet,  at  the  bottom 
of  which,  as  at  the  bottom  of  a  pipe-bowl,  they  found  a 
narrow  passage  leading  thence  horizontally — a  passage 
but  little  more  than  wide  enough  to  permit  one  person  to 
proceed  at  a  time.  This  narrow  drift  or  funnel,  of  a  va 
riable  size,  continued  for  about  a  rod ;  and  during  their 
slow  passage  through  it  all  bore  their  torches  with  diffi 
culty  ahead.  It  was  plain  that  had  Jacob  remained  in 
possession  of  this  subterranean  stronghold,  their  further 
progress  could  have  been  fendered  impossible,  as  each 
would  have  been  entirely  at  his  mercy  at  this  spot,  and 
might  have  been  brained  as  he  crept  along.  As  it  was, 
however,  they  got  forward  without  any  serious  impedi 
ment.  The  rock  below  was  worn  smooth  apparently  by 
use ;  and  overhead,  as  the  smoke  of  their  torches  curled 
up  among  the  dripping  crevices,  they  found  indications 
that  their  present  way  must  have  been  opened  by  some 
vast  convulsion  of  nature,  as  each  side  in  projection  and 
indentation  corresponded  with  the  other  as  if  once  torn 
apart ;  while  between  them  now  hung  glittering  masses 
of  white  felspar  and  transparent  crystal.  At  the  tenni- 


THE    CAVERN.  133 

nation  jf  the  tubular  passage,  the  ceiling  abruptly  rose 
up  to  seven  or  eight  feet  in  height.  Here  they  were  en 
abled  to  elevate  their  lights  above  their  heads,  so  as  at 
once  to  look  before  and  around  them.  The  passage  also 
grew  rapidly  wider,  until  it  attained  nearly,  though  not 
uniformly,  the  breadth  of  an  ordinary  room.  The  sur 
rounding  rock,  save  in  the  sparry  interstice  above  men 
tioned,  had  been  hitherto  dark,  and  was  almost  every 
where  dripping  with  water,  but  as  they  proceeded,  the 
character  of  it  began  to  change.  The  walls  and  the  roof 
became  comparatively  dry.  Occasionally,  also,  new  fis 
sures  or  breaks  were  visible,  which  were  filled  with  the 
white  or  yellowish  spar.  The  sparkle  of  quartz  here  and 
there  sent  back  to  the  eye  a  white  reflection  from  the 
torches.  These  doubtless  were  the  diamonds  of  public 
rumor  alluded  to  by  Brigham. 

The  human  voice,  in  the  close  arches  where  they  now 
moved,  when  raised  but  a  little  above  its  ordinary  key, 
sounded  loud  and  stunning.  When  they  stood  still,  even 
the  ticking  of  a  watch  could  be  heard.  They  were  getting 
far  beyond  the  reach  of  all  the  noises  which  disturbed  the 
upper  world. 

The  further  they  proceeded,  the  more  were  they  aston 
ished  at  the  extent  and  magnificence  of  the  grotto.  Bril 
liant  stalactites  began  to  glitter  around  them.  They 
seemed  to  be  moving  through  the  gallery  of  an  illuminated 
palace,  where  utter  and  almost  magical  silence  reigned. 

They  carefully  scrutinized  every  nook  and  shady 
crevice  as  they  passed,  lest,  in  some  of  them,  might  be 
found  a  side  opening  leading  away  to  other  chambers, 
where  the  object  of  their  search  might  be  concealed.  None 
such,  however,  as  yet,  appeared.  It  was  an  encourage- 


134  SARATOGA. 

ment  to  them  to  know  that  their  chances  of  success  were 
so  much  the  better,  as  the  cavern,  to  all  seeming,  consisted 
of  hut  one  grand  passage.  There  was  no  labyrinth  of 
apartments  to  be  traversed,  in  which  a  solitary  wanderer 
might  be  lost ;  and  amid  whose  mazes,  the  anxious 
searchers  might  prosecute  their  examinations  in  vain. 

Meanwhile,  the  path  they  traveled  was  not  an  easy  one. 
The  floor  was  encumbered  with  loose  rocky  fragments, 
with  numberless  stalagmitic  cones,  and  with  rough  out 
cropping  ridges  of  golden-hued  mica  slate.  Nor  was  it 
otherwise  level,  but  ascended  and  descended ;  and  although 
its  general  direction  was  westerly,  it  still  wound  onward 
in  an  irregular  zig-zag ;  so  that  there  was  scarcely  a  single 
point  where  the  view  could  have  reached  to  any  great  dis 
tance,  even  had  their  lights  been  powerful  enough  to 
penetrate  the  dark  arches  which  yawned  before  and  be 
hind  them. 

As  they  moved  slowly  through  those  subterranean 
abodes,  with  the  red  smoking  torches  which  they  bore, 
and  the  various  characteristics  and  contrasts  which  they 
exhibited  in  dress  and  in  manner,  they  would  have  formed 
a  fine  subject  for  an  artist's  pencil. 

In  front  was  Walcott,  youthful,  athletic  and  compact 
in  figure ;  with  the  ruddy  light  illuminating  his  glossy 
hair,  and  his  clear  complexion ;  while  his  thoughtful  brow 
and  anxious  eye  betrayed  the  absorbing  interest  which  he 
took  in  the  enterprise.  Next  came  Brigham,  large, 
swarthy,  rude,  intelligent,  cunning ;  his  eye  blazing  with 
passion,  and  his  countenance  sobered  by  experience ; 
powerful,  resolute  and  adroit.  After  him  could  be  seen 
the  Apollo-like  form,  the  stoic  face,  the  flashing  eye,  and 
graceful,  composed  movement  of  the  Indian.  From  the 


THE    CAVERN.  135 

sparry  roof  and  the  glistening  sides,  from  the  encumbered 
floor  and  the  sable  vaults,  arose  the  bright  lights  and  deep 
shadows  of  the  picture — evoked  by  the  red  blazes  of  the 
torches,  like  contending  spirits,  from  out  of  the  surround 
ing  space. 

The  countenances  of  all  were  more  or  less  clothed  in 
wonder.  Even  Indian  stoicism  had  given  way  before  the 
dazzling  phenomena  which  thus  unexpectedly  greeted 
them  in  these  solitary  vaults  far  under  the  habitable 
world. 

From  the  utter  silence  which  they  had  previously  en 
countered,  they  were,  at  last,  but  only  by  degrees,  awak 
ened  to  the  consciousness  that  something  like  the  sound 
of  rushing  water  was  gradually,  and  from  the  distance, 
stealing  upon  their  senses.  More  clear  and  more  musical 
did  the  liquid  melody  become,  as  they  proceeded  onward. 
With  their  senses  absorbed  by  these  sounds  of  enchant 
ment,  they  sometimes  forgot  the  object  for  which  they  h-.ul 
ventured  thither ;  but  they  still  mechanically  moved  ou. 

At  length  they  came  to  a  place  where  the  echoes  of  the 
rushing  water,  like  the  swell  and  cadence  of  an  ^Eolian 
harp,  filled  the  whole  air.  Immediately  in  front,  they 
beheld  a  narrow  stream,  clear  as  glass,  but  running  like  a 
torrent.  From  its  surface  arose  a  thousand  sparkling 
bubbles,  so  that  it  looked  like  a  rivulet  of  effervescent 
wine.  It  issued  from  the  right,  or  northerly  side  of  the 
cavern,  out  of  dull  porous  rocks,  painted  over  with  a  red 
deposit  of  iron  oxyd.  On  the  other  side  it  poured,  with 
a  loud  brawl,  into  a  close,  full-throated  funnel.  They 
heard  the  sound  thereof,  but  could  not  tell  whence  it 
came,  or  whither  it  went.  They  tasted  of  the  water,  and 
found  it  of  a  pungent,  saline  flavor,  but  quite  palatable  and 


136  SARATOGA. 

exhilarating.  To  judge  from  this,  the  stream  might 
well  be  imagined  to  be  one  of  the  full-charged  subterranean 
arteries,  out  of  which  issued  the  numberless  veins  that 
bore,  through  uprising  strata  and  sinuous  crevices  in  the 
rocks,  the  various  waters  of  the  mineral  springs,  which 
burst  out  so  abundantly  upon  the  surface  of  the  earth  above. 

After  a  slight  pause  they  crossed  the  stream,  which  was 
not  very  deep  or  broad.  Beyond  it,  the  cavern  grew 
wider;  and,  with  the  smoky  lights  which  they  carried, 
they  could  hardly  perceive  the  extent  of  it  through  the 
gloom.  Before  venturing  further  on  their  course,  they 
carefully  passed  along  each  of  the  sides,  to  ascertain  the 
possible  existence  of  any  openings.  In  this  the  sharp 
eyes  of  the  Indian  were  found  to  be  of  great  avail.  On 
one  side  he  detected  a  small  low  orifice,  of  a  size  sufficient 
to  admit  the  entrance  of  a  man's  body.  It  had  escaped 
the  notice  of  the  others.  On  closer  examination  it  was 
found  to  be  of  a  considerable  length,  and  was  suspected 
to  lead  to  some  other  compartment  of  the  grotto.  It  lay 
close  by  the  mineral  brook,  and  in  a  position  not  to  be 
easily  seen. 

After  a  little  hesitation,  Walcott  crept  into  the  open 
ing,  and  passed  out  of  sight ;  the  others  immediately  fol 
lowed,  and  soon  found  themselves  in  a  small  vaulted 
chamber,  possessing  no  other  outlet  than  that  by  which 
they  had  entered.  It  was  brilliant  with  crystals.  On  the 
sides,  the  ceiling,  and  the  floor,  were  huge,  pointed,  trans 
lucent  masses  of  sparkling  quartz.  As  the  flaring  light 
of  the  torches  spread  around  the  little  apartment,  and 
was  reflected  back  from  a  thousand  points,  the  eye  became 
painfully  dazzled  by  the  luster ;  and  the  three  adventurers 
paused  as  if  they  had  unwittingly  burst  in  upon  one  of 


THE    CAVERN.  137 

nature's  secret  treasures.  What  added  singularly  to  the 
air  of  enchantment  which  the  place  wore,  was  the  sound 
of  the  rivulet,  which  penetrated  thither  through  concealed 
fissures  in  the  rocks,  and,  varying  with  the  ever-changing 
flow  of  the  water,  came  to  the  ear  in  soft,  melodious,  ring 
ing  murmurs.  With  little  aid  of  fancy,  it  might  have 
been  taken  for  the  tones  of  a  musical  instrument,  softened 
by  distance,  and  rising  or  falling  upon  the  variable  winda, 


CHAPTER    XI. 

LU  C  ILB. 

WHEN  we  left  our  poor  Lucile,  she  waa  borne  quite 
unconscious,  in  the  arms  of  Jacob,  from  the  bough-hut  in 
the  direction  of  the  Rock  Spring.  Her  fatigue  and  anx 
iety  had  been  more  than  nature  could  endure.  How 
long  she  lay  in  this  merciful  trance,  she  never  could  tell ; 
but  when  her  senses  began  slowly  to  return  to  her,  she 
could  hardly  believe  that  the  objects  she  saw  around  were 
real.  It  must  be  that  she  looked  upon  the  pictures  of  a 
dream,  or  that  her  mind  was  wandering — so  wonderful 
was  every  object  which  met  her  eye.  She  saw  herself  in 
what  appeared  to  be  a  vast  chamber  or  vault,  around 
which  shone  myriads  of  sparkling  objects,  of  every  con 
ceivable  color  and  brilliance.  The  light  by  which  they 
were  beheld,  came  from  a  large  fire  of  sticks,  built  in  the 
center  of  the  room  against  a  cluster  of  stones.  A  tall 
flame  rose  from  it  toward  the  roof,  where  it  sent  a  thick 
canopy  of  smoke,  which,  after  creeping  slowly  along  the 
arches,  seemed  to  escape  through  unseen  crevices ;  for  the 
quantity  of  it,  in  the  apartment,  was  in  no  wise  increased, 
even  after  the  lapse  of  a  considerable  time.  Under  her 
was  a  pile  of  skins,  thick  enough  to  form  a  soft  and  com 
fortable  bed ;  and,  no  doubt,  it  had  contributed  not  a  little 
to  prolong  her  sleep. 


LUCILE.  139 

Before  endeavoring  to  scan  the  marvelous  objects  which 
everywhere  met  her  eye,  or  to  unravel  the  mystery  which 
surrounded  her,  she  tried  to  compose  her  startled  thoughts, 
and  by  recollecting  where  she  was  last,  to  follow  up,  if 
possible,  the  thread  of  events  which  had  led  her  hither. 
For  a  long  time  she  was  quite  unsuccessful ;  the  vail, 
which  shut  out  the  past,  seemed  too  thick  and  impene 
trable.  But  at  length,  it  lifted  slowly  like  a  rising  mist ; 
and  faintly,  and  one  by  one,  did  the  painful  incidents  of 
the  last  few  days,  take  their  proper  place  in  her  memory. 
But  still  there  was  a  point  where  they  ceased  to  be  distin 
guishable  ;  and  the  picture  which  she  had  thus  been  able 
to  retrace,  faded  away  in  those  last  miserable  moments  of 
consciousness,  when  the  lunatic  had  carried  her,  in  the 
darkness,  away  from  the  lonely  hut  of  boughs.  What 
had  since  happened  ?  and  where  could  she  be  now  ?  Upon 
her  person  were  the  same  clothes  she  had  worn  on  the 
morning  of  the  ill-starred  excursion ;  and  she  could  not 
therefore  doubt  but  that  the  adventure,  by  some  inscruta 
ble  means,  had  brought  her  where  she  was. 

To  her  wondering  eyes,  the  place,  though  so  wild  and 
solitary,  was  still  mysterious  and  magical.  It  would  seem 
that  she  had  in  reality  been  transferred  to  a  fairy  palace. 
Around  her,  were  none  of  the  appliances  of  civilized  life 
— none  of  those  devices  and  productions  which  the  human 
race  is  constantly,  and  from  generation  to  generation,  ac 
cumulating  in  its  abodes,  and  scattering  over  the  world. 

Of  all  that  she  saw,  the  fire  alone,  and  what  lay  on 
and  around  it,  gave  token  of  the  presence  of  man.  In 
the  midst  of  the  space  it  blazed  and  crackled  away  in  sul 
len  industry ;  while  before  it  on  rude  spits  were  to  be 
seen  three  or  four  small  objects  which,  on  a  closer  inspec- 


140  SARATOGA. 

tion,  proved  to  be  fishes  thus  exposed  to  a  primitive  broil. 
It  was  so  far  consoling,  as  it  showed  that  she  was  not  be 
yond  the  reach  of  human  attention,  and  was  still  an  object 
of  care.  But  when  she  looked  around  Upon  the  mag 
nificent  solitude  of  the  vast  apartment,  and  sought  to 
divine  by  what  means  she  had  been  translated  to  it,  the 
mystery  became  appalling,  and  a  cold  awe  crept  like  ice 
over  her  heart. 

For  a  long  time  she  listened  in  silence,  hoping,  in  that 
way  to  learn  if  any  other  living  thing  might  be  near ;  but 
no  sound  disturbed  the  stillness  save  the  roar  of  the  fire 
and  the  crackling  of  the  sticks.  Yet,  somebody  must 
have  been  present,  and  that  not  long  since  ;  for  there  the 
fire  lay  burning,  and  fresh  fish  were  broiling  upon  the 
spits.  Who  this  provider  might  be  she  trembled  to 
imagine. 

She  walked  about  the  apartment  and  on  all  sides  she 
met  solid,  impenetrable  rocks.  No  door — no  apparent 
means  of  entrance  or  of  egress  did  she  encounter.  It 
seemed  like  a  gorgeous  tomb  in  which  she  was  buried. 
Or,  was  it  all,  rather,  the  delusion  of  a  disordered  brain  ? 
and  could  she  suddenly  have  become  as  crazy  as  the 
lunatic  ?  To  assure  herself  of  the  contrary  she  still  con 
tinued  her  examination.  Each  object,  she  could  distin 
guish,  define,  and  describe.  The  couch,  the  fire,  the 
broiling  fish,  were  all  considered.  Her  mind  quietly  and 
clearly  performed  its  office,  in  respect  to  the  things  which 
she  saw.  She  even  turned  her  attention  to  details  as  a 
means  of  further  convincing  herself  that  her  thoughts 
were  still  healthy  and  sound.  She  examined  the  fish  by 
the  fire.  One  side  of  them  was  raw  and  the  other  was 
burned  to  a  crisp  for  lack  of  turning.  This  she  saw ;  she 


L  U  C  I  L  E  .  141 

could  comprehend  and  explain  it.  Thank  heaven!  reason 
still  held  its  sway  in  her  mind,  and  she  was  not  the  victim 
of  disordered  fancy,  but  of  some  unexpected  natural  mis 
fortune.  So  far,  well ;  but  could  it  be  that  the  mysterious 
purveyor  had  purposely  left  her  to  the  care  of  supervising 
the  preparation  of  the  half-broiled  meal?  There  was  a 
grain  of  hope,  or,  at  least,  of  consolation  in  the  thought. 
His  presence  was  more  to  be  feared  than  solitude  and 
desertion. 

It  will  be  borne  in  mind,  that  a  long  time  had  now 
elapsed,  how  long,  the  poor  girl  herself  had  no  means  of 
measuring,  since  she  had  partaken  of  any  food.  It  will 
not,  therefore  be  surprising  that,  in  spite  of  the  perils  to 
which  she  had  been  exposed,  and  in  spite  of  the  dubious 
and  agitating  circumstances  in  which  she  was  at  present 
placed,  nature  gradually  asserted  her  power  and  pro 
claimed  her  wants,  and  that  she  felt  a  strong  and  growing 
appetite. 

So  it  was  without  reluctance  that  she,  for  the  moment, 
endeavored  to  forget  her  unhappiness  in  attending  to  the 
preparation  of  the  food  which  she  found  before  her. 
When  would  be  her  next  meal?  Who  would  be  her 
provider  ?  Might  not  the  malignant  designs  or  the  un 
thinking  caprice  of  her  captor  leave  her,  perhaps,  soon, 
or.  perhaps,  at  some  later  period  without  sustenance,  a 
victim  of  starvation?  There  was  hunger  in  the  very 
thought ;  and  she  began  to  regard  the  little  that  was 
before  her  with  an  eye  of  longing,  and  yet  with  a  feeling 
that,  like  a  poor  man's  wages,  or  a  miser's  wealth,  it  was 
to  be  economized  and  carefully  hoarded.  When,  there 
fore,  the  food  was  sufficiently  cooked  she  partook  of  it  but 
sparingly ;  though  either  a  long  fast  or  an  alarmed  appre- 


142  SARATOGA. 

hension  as  to  the  source  from  which  her  future  supplies 
were  to  be  derived,  gave  to  that  little  a  flavor  which  no 
sauces  could  have  imparted,  and  which  only  served  to 
whet  the  appetite  it  was  intended  to  allay.  Thirst,  too, 
with  its  feverish  requisitions,  began  to  be  felt.  How  was 
it  to  be  slaked  ?  No  limpid  pool,  like  the  few  treasured 
fishes,  seemed  ready  to  invite  her  attention;  and  her 
eager  eye  in  vain  surveyed  the  mysterious  rocky  walls 
which  shut  her  in,  for  some  collection  of  the  desired 
element,  or  for  some  trickling  drops  which  might  serve  to 
satisfy  her  thirst.  She  took  up  one  of  the  half-burned 
brands  from  the  fire  and  commenced  a  tour  of  exploration. 
It  was  with  a  feeling  of  joy  and  gratitude  that  she  found 
in  a  remote  corner  a  thin  trickling  thread  of  water,  falling 
in  limpid  drops  over  the  white  rocks  of  the  side,  and  col 
lecting  in  a  little  hollow  near  the  bottom.  In  this  was 
sufficient  to  satisfy  her  thirst,  and  one  source  of  anxiety 
was  relieved  by  observing  that  as  fast  as  the  basin  was  ex 
hausted,  the  tinkling  cascade  which  fell  into  it  served  to 
renew  the  supply. 

This  prime  want  being  for  the  present,  gratified ;  and, 
for  the  future,  provided  against ;  she  resumed  her  recon- 
noissance.  Closely  and  carefully  did  she  peer  into  every 
nook  and  corner ;  and,  with  uplifted  torch,  she  sought  to 
penetrate  the  shadowy  recesses  of  the  high  roof.  But,  to 
her  alarmed  eye,  no  sign  of  outlet  or  means  of  access,  was 
•  anywhere  visible;  and  it  was  with  lowered  hopes,  and  a 
gathering  sense  of  misery  that  she  continued  her  round, 
till  the  circuit  was  quite  completed.  Not  the  least  success 
had  attended  the  effort.  To  all  appearance,  her  prison 
was  as  much  without  opening  or  aperture,  as  an  unbroken 
nut-shell.  She  did  not,  for  a  moment,  doubt  the  exist- 


LUCILE.  143 

ence  of  an  opening ;  but  the  ground  of  alarm  was  that  it 
might  be  so  difficult  to  find,  so  hard  to  attain,  or  so  care 
fully  secured,  as  to  prevent  her  from  deriving  any  benefit 
from  it.  In  the  fullness  of  her  grief,  she  at  last  sat  down 
upon  the  pile  of  skins  which  had  served  her  for  a  couch, 
and  burst  into  a  fit  of  violent  and  uncontrollable  weeping. 

During  the  occurrences  which  had  taken  place,  a  vast 
change  had  been  wrought  within  he^elf.  From  being  a 
girl,  she  felt  herself  to  have  become  a  woman ;  from  being 
giddy,  thoughtless,  and  dependant  upon  others,  she  had 
become  considerate  and  sober ;  and  had  been  forced  to  look 
into  her  own  mind  for  resources,  and  for  grounds  of  hope. 
In  two  days  a  new  life  had  swept  over  her,  leaving,  like 
an  angel  of  wisdom,  its  manna  of  experience  and  its  store 
of  strength,  behind.  So  the  poor  girl  felt ;  and  under  the 
influence  of  the  new-born  impulses,  she  desired  to  act; 
but  the  sorrow  of  the  hour  lay  too  heavy  at  her  heart,  and 
she  could  not  restrain  a  few  tears  of  bitterness,  and  a  few 
sobs  of  anguish. 

But  here,  the  course  of  our  narrative  compels  us  for 
the  present  to  leave  her,  and  to  turn  our  attention  again 
to  the  movements  of  the  other  actors  in  our  story. 

Jacob,  after  having  made  the  preparations  for  an  evening 
meal,  which  we  have  noted,  had  taken  a  kind  of  cup  made 
of  the  hollowed  shell  of  a  species  of  squash,  commonly 
called  a  gourd,  and  had  made  his  way  back  through  the 
cavern  to  the  rivulet  of  mineral  water.  Arriving  there, 
some  impulse  of  caution  or  curiosity  induced  him  to  con 
tinue  on  to  the  mouth  of  the  grotto,  for  the  purpose  of 
seeing  what  his  pursuers  might  be  doing ;  for,  by  a  sort 
of  instinct,  he  had  long  since  divined  that  eager  eyes  were 
already  upon  his  footsteps.  What  occurred  when  he 


144  SARATOGA. 

arrived  at  the  outlet  and  was  about  to  emerge  into  the 
open  air,  we  have  before  related.  The  excitement  of  those 
few  events  had  driven  from  his  mind  all  thought  of  the 
errand  which  had  called  him  forth,  and  of  the  circum 
stances  which  required  his  return.  The  helpless  prisoner, 
in  her  solitude  and  sorrow,  was  utterly  forgotten.  For  a 
long  time,  neither  pity  for  an  innocent  sufferer,  nor  eager 
ness  to  repossess  a  beautiful  victim,  was  felt  in  his  heart ; 
and  it  was  not  until,  when  far  off  in  the  woods,  he  looked 
back  and  saw  the  lights  of  the  moving  torches,  and  the 
forms  of  his  pursuers  about  the  entrance  of  the  ^cavern, 
that  an  indistinct  comprehension  came  back  to  his  dis 
ordered  mind  of  the  purpose  which  they  had  in  view,  and 
of  the  contemplated  mischief  which  he  had  left  behind 
him  in  the  grotto. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

JACOB     AT     HOME. 

WALCOTT  and  his  associates,  when  last  we  left 
them,  were  still  in  the  crystal  chamber,  which  they  had 
found  by  the  side  of  the  subterranean  brook.  Full  of 
amazement  at  the  splendor  which  everywhere  met  their 
eyes,  they  for  some  time  remained,  absorbed  in  new  emo 
tions,  and  in  forgetfulness  of  the  pressing  errand  which 
had  brought  them  hither.  To  the  young  man  especially, 
whose  mind  was  still  open  to  the  seductive  charms  of 
romance,  there  was  a  singular  fascination  in  every  thing 
by  which  he  was  surrounded.  He  was,  therefore,  the  last 
that  turned  to  leave  a  place  which  had  taken  such  strong 
hold  of  his  fancy.  Though  full  of  fairy  sounds  and  latent 
glories,  it  was  without  occupant  of  any  kind ;  and  by  any 
further  delay  there,  the  enterprise  in  which  they  were 
embarked  could  only  suffer. 

In  going  out  of  the  chamber  the  Indian  took  the  lead. 
When  he  had  crept  nearly  through  the  orifice,  and  was 
about  emerging  on  the  other  side,  as  he  held  his  torch 
before  him,  he  saw,  or  fancied  that  he  saw,  standing  in  the 
open  space  and  within  a  few  feet  of  him,  the  fantastic  fig 
ure  and  mocking  face  of  Jacob.  So  deep  was  his  super- 
ntitious  dread  of  this  creature,  and  so  startled  was  he  by 
the  unexpected  apparition,  that  by  an  involuntary  impulse 
he  hurried  back  into  the  closed  chamber  before  the  others 
10 


146  SARATOGA. 

had  started  to  follow  him,  exhibiting  in  his  countenance 
every  mark  of  surprise  and  fear. 

"  What  the  deuce  is  the  matter  now  ?"  exclaimed  Brig- 
ham  ;  "  you  ain't  bit  by  a  rattle-snake,  are  you?" 

"No:    seen  Jake  though,"  was  Catfoot's  perturbed 
reply. 

Brigham  instantly  rushed  into  the  opening,  and  crawl 
ing  hastily  through  into  the  darkness,  leaving  the  others 
to  follow  with  the  lights,  was  about  rising  on  the  other 
side,  when  a  large  and  heavy  fragment  of  rock  came 
crashing  against  the  wall  beside  him  and  broke  into  pieces 
sending  its  very  splinters  into  his  face.  It  was  lucky 
that  he  had  left  his  torch  behind ! 

"Halloo!"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  scrambled  up;  "the 
cave  ain't  tumbling  in,  I  hope  ?  But  it  must  be  the  crit 
ter  Catfoot  saw.  Sheer  off!"  he  added,  in  the  dark 
ness,  "or  you'll  find  it  ain't  Jim  M'Carty  you've  got 
hold  on  this  time." 

In  a  moment  after  a  feint  light  shone  through  the 
opening,  and  Walcott  and  the  Indian  hurried  out  to  join 
their  companion.  It  was  then  by  the  aid  of  the  torches 
that  Brigham  was  enabled  to  catch  sight  of  the  shadowy 
figure  of  Jacob,  as  with  the  speed  of  a  phantom,  it  disap 
peared  in  the  darkness  ahead.  His  loud  dissonant  laugh 
ter  also  burst  like  a  sudden  explosion  upon  their  ears, 
and  in  continuous  reverberations,  rolled  through  the  vast 
vaults  of  the  cavern  for  some  minutes  after  he  was  gone. 

There  was  no  time  for  consideration.  The  men  all 
rushed  on  in  hot  pursuit.  This,  however,  they  found  to 
be  no  easy  task ;  and  overtaking  the  fugitive  was  a  feat 
not  likely  to  be  soon  accomplished.  Beside  the  rough 
ness  of  the  way,  they  were  at  this  point  much  embar- 


JACOB    AT    HOME.  147 

rassed  by  its  width,  which  exposed  them  to  the  risk  of 
leaving  some  lateral  hiding-place  unexplored  as  they 
passed ;  and  so  their  whole  labor  might  go  for  nothing, 
and  their  whole  scheme  miscarry. 

"  I  think,"  said  Brigham,  as  they  hurried  along,  "  that 
I  shall  give  them  lazy  villains,  Jim  and  Joe,  a  piece  of 
my  mind,  when  we  go  back.  It 's  a  pity  if  they  could  n't 
keep  this  crazy  devil  from  getting  in  here  a  second  time. 
I  dare  say  they've  got  hold  of  a  rum-bottle  somewhere, 
between  'em,  and  are  both  sound  drunk  and  snoring  be 
fore  now." 

"  They  are  certainly  much  to  blame  for  letting  him  in," 
replied  Walcott.  "  He  will  embarrass  and,  perhaps,  en 
tirely  thwart  us  here." 

Again  busied  with  the  labor  of  the  search,  each  relapsed 
into  silence.  They  got  forward  slowly,  but  without  meet 
ing  any  serious  impediment  and  without  catching  another 
sight  of  the  fugitive.  At  length  the  cavern  became  sud 
denly  much  narrower  and  led  abruptly  up  a  narrow  ascent. 
On  the  top  of  this  acclivity  it  was  found  that  the  charac 
ter  of  the  rock  had  become  greatly  changed  both  in  color 
and  in  composition.  Instead  of  white  and  transparent 
spar  and  crystal,  they  found  dull  coarse  masses  of  marine 
limestone,  and  dikes  of  flinty  trap.  A  breath  of  air  was 
also  felt  to  be  blowing  past  them,  which  had  a  fresh,  damp, 
and  earthy  odor.  As  they  passed  a  little  further  on  they 
saw,  in  the  distance,  a  faint,  dull  glimmer  of  light.  On 
proceeding  thither,  they  found  a  small  hole  leading  up 
ward.  Into  this  Walcott  clambered,  and  soon  emerged 
into  the  open  air.  It  was  at  a  small  cleared  space  in  the 
forest,  upon  which  at  that  moment  the  light  of  the  moon 
was  falling  in  full  effulgence.  In  the  surrounding  woods 


148  SARATOGA. 

a  ghost-like  silence  prevailed.  The  dew,  like  a  misty  vail, 
lay  upon  the  grass  and  upon  the  leaves ;  and  all  nature 
seemed  too  peaceful  and  too  slumberous  to  have  been  re 
cently  disturbed  by  the  passage  or  presence  of  human  beings. 

The  three  men  now  set  themselves  to  examine  the 
outlet  of  the  cavern,  in  order  to  see  whether  it  contained 
any  indications  that  the  fugitive  had  escaped  through  it. 
In  a  few  moments  they  had  the  satisfaction  to  find  that 
there  were  no  discoverable  footmarks  leading  outward,  ex 
cept  their  own ;  but  that,  on  the  contrary,  a  fresh  trail  led 
inward.  A  part  of  the  mystery  was  at  once  cleared  up. 
By  this  means  had  the  crazy  man  effected  his  second  en 
trance,  and  not  by  eluding  the  vigilance,  or  overcoming 
the  resistance  of  the  two  sentinels  who  had  been  posted  to 
guard  the  eastern  inlet. 

The  pursuers  must  have  passed  him  in  the  cavern, 
where,  doubtless,  he  had  many  hiding-places,  and  in 
some  of  which  his  hapless  prisoner  must  still  be  concealed. 
There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  turn  back,  and  to  make  a 
re-examination.  Down  the  vaulted  way,  accordingly,  was 
their  course  again  bent;  but  they  retraced  their  steps 
with  no  strong  hopes  of  success.  That  all  their  move 
ments  had  been  watched,  they  had  no  doubt ;  and  consid 
ering  the  facility  with  which  they  had  been  eluded,  and 
the  thousand  shadowy  recesses  with  which  the  vast  cave 
abounded,  through  any  of  which  some  secret  passage 
might  lead  to  other  compartments,  they  all  felt  that  the 
chances  were  strongly  against  them. 

After  descending  to  the  bottom  of  the  slope,  and  gain 
ing  the  point  where  the  passage  became  high  and  wide, 
they  resumed  their  scrutiny,  and  this  time  with  much 
greater  care  than  before.  It  was  supposed  that  Jacob  had 


JACOB    AT    HOME.  149 

slipped  behind  them,  while  they  were  eager  in  pursuit. 
They  felt  confident  that  his  hiding-place  could  not  be  on 
the  other  side  of  the  brook,  where  the  gallery  was  narrow 
and  easily  explored.  Its  greatest  breadth  was,  perhaps, 
at  the  very  point  where  they  were  now  prosecuting  their 
search.  In  consequence  of  this,  they  had  separated,  not 
only  for  the  purpose  of  extending  the  space  to  be  illumin 
ated  by  their  torches,  but  so  that,  while  one  traversed  the 
center,  the  other  two  could  explore  each  of  the  sides. 
Walcott  was  a  little  ahead  of  the  others,  and  in  the  cen 
ter  ;  Brigham  was  upon  the  right,  and  the  Indian  upon 
the  left.  While  occupying  these  relative  positions,  it  was 
suddenly  observed  that  Catfoot  paused,  with  very  much 
the  air  of  a  dog,  when  first  catching  the  scent  of  game. 
He  stood  perfectly  still,  while  the  others  approached  ;  and 
when  both  came  round  him,  he  said,  snuffing  the  air, 

"Smoke." 

"What?"  said  Brigham. 

"  Smoke,"  was  the  reply. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  asked  Walcott. 

"  Mean  somebody  cook,  get  ready  eat,"  answered  Cat- 
foot. 

Walcott,  hereupon,  stepped  to  where  the  Indian  stood, 
and  after  a  little  attention,  did,  in  fact,  perceive  the  smell 
which  had  arrested  the  attention  of  the  other.  The  dis 
covery  was  important.  There  could  be  no  smoke  without 
a  fire,  and  no  fire  in  that  place,  without  human  hands  to 
kindle  it  And  whose  could  it  be  but  the  lunatic's  ?  The 
conclusion  was  almost  certain.  But  where,  after  all,  was 
the  place  whence  it  issued?  and  by  what  avenue  was  it 
to  be  reached  ?  Here  was  a  still  unsolved,  but  most  im 
portant,  question. 


150  SARATOGA. 

"Brigham,"  said  Walcott,  "just  step  a  little  further 
on,  and  see  if  you  can  discover  any  smell  of  smoke 
there." 

Brigham  accordingly  took  up  a  position  in  advance  as 
requested ;  and  then,  shaking  his  head  with  a  negative 
sign,  he  moved  slowly  toward  his  associate,  and  did  not 
pause  until  within  a  rod  or  so  of  him,  when  he  replied, 

"Here,  Mr.  "Walcott,  I  consate  there's  something  like 
smoke.  Hold  a  minute!  I'll  bet  I  can  tell  what  the 
critter  is  roasting.  Venison  ?  No.  Brimstone,  perhaps  ? 
No.  'Taint  that  kind — too  fresh  like.  By  thunder !  it 's 
fish.  I'll  swear  to  it.  Catfoot,  come  here,  and  give  us 
your  opinion  on't." 

The  Indian  approached,  and  after  a  moment's  hesita 
tion,  quietly  replied : 

"Pike." 

"  So  it  is,  old  boy,"  said  Brigham,  "  fresh  pike,  by  all 
that's  natural !  It  must  be  the  fish  he  caught  in  the 
pond  where  we  found  the  pole  and  fixins." 

On  the  left  hand  side  of  where  they  were  now  stand 
ing,  the  rocks,  as  they  rose  up,  receded  so  that,  by  aid  of 
the  ledges,  one  could,  without  much  difficulty,  climb  up 
it,  to  a  point  near  the  ceiling. 

"Catfoot,"  said  Walcott;  "will  you  be  good  enough 
to  examine  these  rocks  along  here,  while  Brigham  and  I 
watch?" 

The  Indian  prepared  to  perform  the  task.  Brigham 
took  up  his  position  further  on  in  the  cavern ;  and  Walcott 
moved  back  toward  the  western  opening,  so  as  to  command 
the  spot,  if  necessary. 

"I  say,  Mr.  Walcott,"  shouted  Brigham  from  the  dis- 


THE   DISCOVERY.  151 

tance;  "shall  I  shoot  the  varmint  this  time,  in  case  he 
shows  fight?" 

"  Not  under  any  circumstances,"  was  the  reply ;  "  our 
first  business  is  to  find  the  girl,  and  our  next  to  take  him, 
if  we  can ;  and  no  violence  must  be  used,  except  in  self- 
defence." 

"  Oh,  very  well,  then!"  said  Brigham;  "if  you  don't 
want  him  hurt,  I'm  agreeable." 

Meanwhile,  according  to  the  young  man's  request,  the 
Indian  was  engaged  in  a  close  examination  of  the  side  of 
the  cavern,  where  the  smell  of  smoke  had  first  been  per 
ceived.  On  the  other  side,  no  trace  of  it  was  discoverable. 
For  this  reason  he  did  not  deem  it  necessary  to  give  the 
latter  more  than  a  hasty  observation.  Most  of  his  atten 
tion  was  turned  to  the  former,  where  he  traversed  the 
whole  distance  between  Walcott  and  Brigham,  and  was 
slowly  returning,  apparently  without  success,  when  a  small 
piece  of  rock  not  larger  than  a  walnut  shell,  came  rolling 
lightly  down  the  sloping  side.  Almost  simultaneously, 
his  eye  swept  the  dark  space  overhead;  but  instantly 
after  dropped  again,  while  he,  with  much  deliberation,  and 
apparently,  with  more  care  than  ever,  continued  his 
scrutiny,  till  he  came  again  up  to  where  Walcott  was 
awaiting  him.  When  there,  without  pausing,  and  without 
looking  at  him,  he  said  in  a  low  voice : 

"Jake  on  big  rock,  just  where  you  see  me  stop  and 
look  up.  Place  there  to  climb." 

Having  said  thus  much  he  slowly  crossed  to  the  other 
side  of  the  cavern,  and  then  went  so  far  back  in  the  direc 
tion  of  Brigham,  as  to  be  immediately  abreast  of  the  spot 
he  had  indicated.  There,  with  his  face  turned  the  other 
way,  he  appeared  to  be  engaged  in  examining  each  nook 


152  SARATOGA. 

and  suspicious  shadow,  as  he  had  done  in  other  places. 
His  torch  was  held  high  over  his  head,  in  such  a  manner 
that  what  light  it  gave  fell  directly  upon  the  place  where 
Jacob  was  supposed  to  be. 

Meanwhile,  Walcott  had  not  only  observed  the  start 
which  the  Indian  had  given  at  the  falling  of  the  pebble, 
but  had  narrowly  watched  his  movement  since  •  and  when 
the  latter  took  up  his  final  position,  he  was  not  slow  in 
divining  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  done. 

Moving  then  slowly  toward  Brigham,  with  a  manner 
as  careless  as  he  could  assume,  he  was  soon  enabled  to 
satisfy  himself  that  the  Indian  was  correct ;  for  high  up 
on  a  shelf  of  the  rock  near  the  roof  of  the  cavern,  he  saw 
the  shadowy  figure  of  the  maniac,  perched  there  like  an 
ill-omened  owl.  He  was  careful,  however,  as  he  ap 
proached,  not  to  direct  his  look  full  upon  the  place,  or  by 
any  other  sign  or  token  to  indicate  that  he  was  at  all 
aware  of  his  presence.  But  when  he  found  himself  at  the 
base  of  the  shelving  rock,  almost  immediately  beneath  the 
other,  he  paused  and  called  upon  Brigham  to  come  near. 
Then,  without  an  instant's  delay,  he  dropped  his  own 
torch  and  sprang  boldly  up  the  acclivity,  ascending  by  the 
aid  of  a  few  natural  ledges,  or  stepping-places  found  on 
its  face. 

"Ha!  ha!  ho!  ho!"  shouted  the  wild  creature  from 
above,  "it's  old  Arthur,  all  over!  See  how  he  comes! 
But  I'll  show  him  how  to  go  down  again,  without  the 
help  of  steps !" 

So  saying,  he  planted  himself  in  a  position  where  he 
could  grapplo  at  great  advantage  with  the  young  man,  as 
Boon  as  he  should  be  within  reach. 

The  latter  still  went  up  rapidly  and  resolutely,  but  with 


THE  CAPTURE.  153 

no  hurry  or  scrambling.  Though  the  situation  was 
critical  and  even  fraught  with  the  utmost  danger,  his 
manner  was  quiet  and  his  countenance  composed,  though 
it  wore  a  look  of  unusual  determination.  Below  him,  his 
two  associates  had  advanced  to  a  position  where  the  light 
of  their  torches  now  illuminated  the  place  where  Jacob 
stood,  throwing  his  huge,  fierce,  and  fantastic  figure,  in 
high  relief  against  the  white  rocks  behind  him.  He  was 
fearful  to  look  upon,  and  the  two  men  held  their  breath 
with  expectation  and  alarm,  as  they  saw  Walcott  draw 
nearer  and  nearer  in  his  giddy  ascent.  Whatever  power 
he  may  have  possessed  over  his  adversary  seemed  to  have 
been  lost,  for  the  latter  still  maintained  his  ground  firmly 
and  even  fiercely ;  and  Brigham  apprehended  nothing  less 
than  to  see  the  adventurous  young  man  dashed  down 
the  craggy  precipice,  as  soon  as  he  and  Jacob  should 
encounter. 

When,  however,  they  were  within  a  few  feet  of  each 
other,  Walcott  fixed  his  eye  steadily  and  unwaveringly 
upon  that  of  the  maniac,  whose  glance,  in  a  little  while, 
began  to  quail,  and  finally  dropped  to  the  ground. 

"Jacob,"  said  the  young  man,  quietly,  "  you  will  be 
good  enough  to  come  with  me.  It  is  quite  necessary.  I 
have  been  looking  for  you  some  time,  and  so  we  are  well 
met." 

During  this  address,  and  even  for  some  seconds  before 
it,  the  lunatic  appeared,  in  some  sort,  to  be  transfixed  and 
subjected  to  an  influence  which  he  could  neither  resist  or 
shake  off. 

"  Ugh !"  exclaimed  Catfoot  from  below,  where  he 
was  watching  these  proceedings  with  astonishment.  "  Big 
medicine !" 


154  SARATOGA. 

"I'm  blessed,  if  he  ain't  done  it!"  said  Brigham. 
"It's  like  medicine,  as  you  say,  Catfoot.  But  who'd  a 
thought  of  such  a  thing  ?  It  must  be  the  very  devil  is 
in  it." 

"Mr.  Brigham,"  exclaimed  Walcott,  as  he  came  with 
Jacob  down  the  shelving  rock,  "allow  me  to  introduce 
you  to  my  friend  here,  Jacob  Whittaker,  a  man  of  eccen 
tric  habits,  but  one  who  can  behave  like  a  gentleman 
when  he  tries.  You  understand  me,  Mr.  Whittaker? 
And  this,  sir,"  said  he  to  the  latter,  "  is  also  a  particular 
friend  of  mine,  Catfoot  of  Mohawk.  You  will  treat  him 
with  proper  respect  as  a  friend  of  mine,  you  know." 

"Oh!  certainly,  doctor,"  said  the  now  submissive 
Jacob,  "any  friend  of  yours  will  be  treated  civil  enough 
by  me.  He 's  welcome  to  this  castle  of  mine,  which  being 
in  a  republican  country,  you  know,  I  have  been  obliged  to 
have  built  under  ground,  as  you  see." 

"By  the  way,  Whittaker,"  said  Walcott,  "since  we 
are  here  in  your  apartments,  suppose  you  show  us  your 
wife  and  the  other  members  of  your  family.  You  know, 
sir,  this  is  what  politeness  requires,  and  I  never  overlook 
any  breach  of  that;  so  lead  on." 

Upon  saying  this,  he  took  Jacob's  arm,  who,  half 
reluctantly,  and  half  foolishly,  still  yielded  to  the  in 
fluence  of  the  other,  and  led  the  way,  for  a  few  steps, 
again  to  the  base  of  the  shelving  ledge  of  rocks  which 
they  had  just  descended. 

"You  see,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  pausing  and  half 
turning  round,  "I  am  obliged  to  take  you  up  a  some 
what  rude  stair-case ;  but  the  arrangement  was  a  freak 
of  mine.  Is  it,"  he  added,  stopping  and  turning  to 


THE   CAPTURE.  155 

Walcott;  "is  it  really  necessary  that  the  gentlemen 
be  shown  up?" 

"Absolutely,"  was  the  reply. 

Hereupon  Jacob  resumed  his  progress,  and  they  all 
clambered  up  the  ledge.  The  shelf  near  the  top  formed 
a  species  of  platform  or  landing  where  they  could  stand 
with  ease. 

In  an  obscure  corner  of  it  lay  a  large  loose  rock.  To 
this  Jacob  at  once  applied  himself  with  the  intent  of  roll 
ing  it  aside. 

"Why,  Whittaker,"  said  Walcott,  "for  such  a  fine 
house  as  this  you  ought  to  have  a  door-bell  to  announce 
your  coming." 

"  You  see  I  have  a  knocker  instead,"  was  the  reply,  as 
the  huge  mass  of  stone  was  heaved  one  side,  and  struck, 
as  it  rolled  over,  resounding  against  the  rocks.  "It's 
rather  loud,  to  be  sure,  but  I  like  it  myself.  Ha !  ho !" 

"  No  more  of  that,  if  you  please,"  said  Walcott,  sternly. 
"  We  can  dispense  with  that  kind  of  laughter.  You  for 
get  yourself  strangely." 

Jacob  stood  rebuked. 

Meanwhile,  by  the  removal  of  the  loose  rock,  there  was 
disclosed  a  hole  large  enough  for  any  one  to  pass  through ; 
and  below  it  a  large  apartment  or  chamber,  from  which 
rose  up  a  strong  light.  Through  the  passage  thus  made 
they  all  went  in  succession,  Jacob  leading  the  way. 
When  within,  they  found  themselves  standing  on  a  gal 
lery  or  shelf  not  unlike  that  on  the  outside.  Though 
high  up,  it  was  still  some  distance  from  the  top  of  the 
apartment,  and  from  it  by  an  easy  slope  and  rude  pro 
jections,  a  descent  could  be  effected. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE     RESCUE. 

A  FEW  hours  before  the  events  with  a  relation  of 
which  the  last  chapter  is  closed,  the  young  girl,  who  had 
been  so  suddenly  spirited  away,  and  whose  disappearance 
was  the  cause  of  so  much  anxious  exertion,  was  still, 
with  many  sighs  and  half-suppressed  sobs,  weeping  at 
the  hard  lot  which  had  befallen  her.  To  her  it  seemed 
inconceivable  that  no  effort  at  her  rescue  had  apparently 
been  made.  Her  attendant,  M'Carty,  she  knew  to  be 
active  and  faithful,  and  as  such,  he  had  been  intrusted 
by  her  father  with  the  care  of  watching  over  and  protect 
ing  her.  Why,  with  his  zeal,  under  the  guidance  and 
experience  of  Colonel  Belden,  had  not  something  been 
accomplished  ?  Any  effort  which  might  have  been  made, 
even  though  unsuccessful,  would  have  been  so  far  fraught 
with  consolation  as  to  show  that,  in  her  misfortune,  she 
was  not  forgotten,  or  left  without  sympathy.  Many  were 
the  painful  reflections  which  passed  through  her  mind, 
in  that  hour  of  depression.  All  her  recollections  came 
up  one  by  one,  shaded  with  melancholy  associations ;  and 
each  with  its  particular  train  of  unhappiness. 

What,  she  thought,  would  be  the  anguish  and  despair 
of  her  bereaved  father,  so  near  at  hand,  and  yet  without 
power  to  relieve  her.  when  he  should  learn  of  her  disap- 


THE    RESCUE.  157 

pearance  ?  She  knew  herself  to  be  his  greatest  treasure ; 
and  she  felt  herself  to  be  his  only  stay  on  earth.  Who 
would  dare  to  disclose  to  him  the  most  unhappy  fate  of 
his  beloved  daughter  ?  Who  would  face  the  grief  and  de 
spair  which  would  be  manifested  at  the  first  annunciation 
of  her  loss  ?  And  when  the  first  burst  of  passionate  sor 
row  should  have  passed  away,  what  would  be  the  life — 
what  would  be  the  lot  of  that  poor,  companionless  old 
man  ?  Who,  for  the  future,  would  pay  him  those  little 
caressing  attentions  which  habitual  affection  had  rendered 
necessary,  and  the  absence  of  which  must  continually  re 
vive  the  bitter  recollection  of  his  loss?  What  hand 
would  assist  his  feeble  footsteps,  and  soothe  his  bed  of 
sickness  ?  And  what  gentle  heart,  with  cheerful  encour 
agement,  would  lighten  his  journey,  as  he  traveled  down 
the  dreary  pathway  to  the  grave  ? 

As  the  affectionate  girl  thought  of  all  these  things,  her 
anguish  was  even  more  on  his  account  than  on  her  own. 
Hitherto,  she  had  not  even  dared  to  fancy  what  fate  she 
might  be  called  upon  to  undergo,  or  how  the  unhappy 
drama  was  to  end.  From  such  a  contemplation,  she  in 
stinctively  shrank,  and  turned  her  thoughts  rather,  though 
it  was  with  a  new  pang,  to  the  friends  who  might  lament 
her  loss,  and  to  the  distant  home  which  that  loss  would 
render  desolate.  She  imagined  to  herself  that  as  her  father 
would  be  returning  thither,  he  would  look  to  the  window 
for  her  greeting  smile,  and  pause  at  the  door  for  her  wel 
come  kiss,  in  vain.  The  empty  mansion  would  echo  to 
lonely  footsteps ;  and  the  old  house-dog  even,  as  he  should 
see  his  master  come  back  alone,  would  look  curiously  and 
suspiciously  upon  it ;  and  at  nightfall,  in  the  heaviness  of 
his  heart,  would  he  lift  up  through  the  stillness,  his  long 


158  SARATOGA. 

and  mournful  bewailment.  Sorrowful  eyes  would  gaze 
into  her  empty  chamber,  where  the  unwound  clock  would 
be  hushed  and  motionless  ;  and  where,  for  lack  of  a  fos 
tering  hand,  the  flowers  by  the  window  would  be  faded 
and  dead. 

In  the  apartments  of  her  father,  in  busy  imagination, 
she  already  fancied  that  she  could  hear  his  lonely  tread 
all  the  night  through ;  and  even  his  low  moan,  as,  at  in 
tervals,  the  recollection  of  his  irretrievable  sorrow  came 
back  to  his  bursting  heart. 

And  then,  too,  she  felt  it  to  be  hard,  in  the  spring 
time  of  life,  and  in  the  bloom  of  her  hopes,  to  be  buried 
thus  alive  in  this  solitary  tomb. 

At  times,  moved  to  the  quick  by  the  many  sad  thoughts 
which  came  so  thickly  upon  her,  she  would  spring  from 
her  couch,  and  like  a  caged  bird,  hasten  round  and  round 
her  brilliant,  but  most  inexorable  dungeon.  Again,  with 
out  consolation  or  relief,  would  she  return  to  her  resting- 
place. 

And  through  all  these  sorrows,  these  futile  searches  for 
the  least  hope  of  escape  or  relief,  would  she  wonder  why 
the  young  Walcott,  the  lover  of  her  friend,  who,  she 
thought,  was  so  generous,  and  who,  at  their  slight  inter 
views,  had  looked  upon  herself  so  kindly — why  he  had 
not,  in  some  way,  traced  her  out,  or  given  some  tokens 
of  interest  in  her  fate.  To  him,  after  all,  was  it  most 
natural  that  the  others  should  look  for  guidance  and  di 
rection.  Colonel  Belden  was  old ;  and  his  zeal,  rather 
than  his  ability,  was  to  be  trusted.  At  the  first  alarm, 
when  his  safety  was  supposed  to  be  concerned,  Walcott 
had  shown  himself  active  and  prompt.  Why  should  he 
not  do  as  much  for  her  ?  Was  it  that  his  zeal  for  Marion's 


THE    RESCUE.  159 

father  was  more  than  his  zeal  for  Marion's  friend  ?  It 
might  be ;  and  yet,  one  so  alive  to  the  welfare  of  others, 
must  surely  be  mindful  of  the  melancholy  fate  of  a  poor 
holpless  girl  like  herself.  She  imagined  that  she  had 
even  read  thus  much  in  his  open,  manly  features,  and  in 
the  gentle  gaze  of  his  thoughtful  eye.  Any  suspicion 
against  him,  must  therefore  be  an  injustice.  She  was 
doubtless  the  victim  of  some  remorseless  destiny.  Pre 
mature  sorrow  was  to  attend,  and,  perhaps,  premature 
death,  was  to  close  her  career,  thus  bringing  to  a  misera 
ble  conclusion  all  her  young  hopes,  and  scattering  to  the 
wind  her,  as  yet,  incompleted  plans.  How,  indeed,  could 
any  one,  not  gifted  with  supernatural  knowledge,  or  pro 
phetic  vision,  be  able  to  discover  the  place  of  her  conceal 
ment  and  confinement — a  place  so  entirely  unknown  and 
inconceivable  to  herself?  And  then,  again,  could  the 
capricious  jailor,  who  had  thus  mysteriously  immured 
her,  be  moved  by  her  entreaties,  or  guided  by  her  sug 
gestions  ? 

No ;  the  first  had  already  failed ;  and  against  the  sec 
ond  he  seemed  to  be  armed  with  a  diabolical  cunning. 
She  had  more  to  hope  from  his  absence,  than  from  his 
mercy  or  simplicity. 

Still,  was  it  not  just  possible — was  it  not  even  proba 
ble  that  such  a  remarkable  place  as  that  in  which  she 
found  herself,  was  known  to  some  one  who  dwelt  in  the 
vicinity  of  it  ?  And  if  known,  was  it  not  also  likely 
that  the  search  for  her,  would  sooner  or  later  be  directed 
thither?  Here,  indeed,  was  a  ray  of  hope  ;  faint  and  far 
off,  like  the  first  glimmer  of  a  light-house  at  sea ;  but 
like  a  shipwrecked  sailor,  she  hailed  the  distant  harbinger 
with  gladness.  In  sanguine  confidence,  she  reasoned  that 


160  SARATOGA. 

even  because  her  disappearance  had  been  remarkable,  it 
was  all  the  more  probable  that  she  would  be  looked  for  in 
some  remarkable  hiding-place. 

She  had  often  heard  that  young  Walcott  himself  was 
deeply  versed  in  all  the  mysteries  of  the  forest,  and  the 
secret  places  of  concealment  which  lay  buried  within  its 
recesses.  Who  then  so  likely  as  he  to  break  the  spell  of 
the  enchantment,  and  to  force  open  the  stony  doors  of 
her  dungeon  ?  And,  in  that  connection,  did  she  recollect 
him  as  he  was,  or  as  her  fancy  pictured  him,  on  the  morn 
ing  of  their  interview.  She  recollected  the  promise  of 
activity  and  energy,  given  forth  by  his  fine  form ;  the 
manly  candor  which  reposed  upon  his  countenance  ;  and 
above  all,  the  glad  flash  of  his  sympathetic  eye,  as  it 
shone  in  genial  luster  upon  her.  His  generosity  would 
preclude  him  from  overlooking  her  fate,  and  his  knowl 
edge,  forethought,  and  power,  must  make  his  endeavors 
successful. 

With  these  happier  thoughts,  was  her  poor  heart,  at 
least,  a  little  quieted ;  and  she  again  reclined  in  uneasi 
ness  upon  the  rude  couch  spread  for  her  reception. 

Amid  the  flickering  of  the  fire  through  the  cavern,  and 
the  equally  uncertain  flickering  of  her  hopes,  through  the 
darkened  recesses  of  her  own  heart,  did  she  at  length 
drop  away  into  busy  dreams  and  uneasy  sleep.  Then  was 
faintly  reproduced  and  recapitulated,  the  events  of  the 
last  few  days.  She  imagined  herself  again  to  be  riding 
on  horseback  through  the  forest,  as  on  the  morning  of  the 
actual  expedition.  She  then  fancied  herself  carried  swiftly 
in  the  darkness,  through  the  bush  and  copse  of  the  brook, 
and  soon  was  wandering  around  her  stony  cell.  Then  by 
a  wide  sweep  of  its  electric  wing,  did  busy  fancy  bear  her 


THE    RESCUE.  161 

away  to  the  hearth-stone  of  her  father's  house.  Birds 
sang  amid  the  flowers  by  the  window,  and  cheerful  voices 
rang  in  happy  converse  around  her.  But  again  a  mighty 
change !  Invisible  arms  encircled  her,  and  some  inhuman 
power  bears  her  away  screaming  for  help.  It  is  her  per 
secutor.  She  knows  his  wild  laughter,  as  he  bounds 
away,  leaping  like  a  gnome  through  the  black  arches  of 
the  rocky  cavern.  The  mystical  music  of  running  waters 
was  also  mingled  with  other  fancies. 

Anon,  she  was  walking,  wearied  and  nearly  fainting, 
over  a  hard  and  stony  path,  in  utter  darkness.  She  was 
dragged  through  narrow  passages,  and  lifted  down  unseen 
precipices.  Then  a  sudden  light  shone  around  her,  develop 
ing  on  all  sides  high,  inexplicable,  glittering,  stony  walls. 
But  in  the  midst,  like  an  angel  of  darkness,  was  again 
shadowed  forth  by  the  merciless  dream,  the  terrific  form 
and  features  of  Jabob,  the  maniac ! 

Again  was  she  seized  with  an  irrepressible  terror,  and 
she  imagined  herself  to  be  calling  for  help  on  Walcott, 
when  lo !  before  her  waking  eyes,  stood  the  real  image  of 
her  dream — the  abhorred  Jacob  !  But  there  too — oh ! 
blessing — stood  the  Walcott  she  had  invoked !  It  must 
no  longer  be  a  fancy !  It  must  not  be  delusion  now ! 
Aught  but  reality  would  be  death  or  madness.  She  rose 
up  hastily,  brushing  her  hair  from  her  forehead ;  there 
was  wildness  and  hope,  terror  and  gratitude  in  her  eyes, 
as  she  fixed  them  upon  her  deliverer.  To  him  she  rushed, 
for  the  evidence  of  vision  was  too  deceitful  and  unsatisfac 
tory.  She  clung  fast — in  his  arms  the  poor  girl  sought 
to  shelter  herself;  lest,  like  her  dream,  the  precious  im 
age  of  hope,  and  harbinger  of  deliverance,  should  also 
pass  away.  Like  a  child,  she  even  sobbed  upon  his  bosom, 
11 


162  SARATOGA. 

and  in  unsubdueable  bursts  of  gratitude  and  gladness, 
sought  for  his  protecting  touch,  and  seemed  to  petition  for 
his  consoling  assurances. 

The  scene  was  too  much  for  all — too  much  for  Walcott 
whose  younger  heart  and  fresher  feelings  had  left  him 
open  to  livelier  and,  perhaps,  more  endearing  emotions ; 
too  much  even  for  the  rude  men  by  whom  he  was  sur 
rounded,  men  who  made  it  a  point  of  pride  to  smother 
sensibility,  and  whose  outer  nature  had  been  case-hardened 
into  stoicism.  While  Brigham  hastily  brushed  a  few 
rebellious  tears  from  his  eyes,  the  face  of  the  Indian  was 
marked  by  rigid  gravity  mingled  with  respectful  sym 
pathy.  Over  both,  nature  was  asserting  her  power, 
though  its  influence  might  be  brief.  But  with  the 
younger  man  of  their  party  it  was  different.  While  the 
outward  effect  of  the  scene  upon  him  was  no  less  than  it 
was  upon  them,  its  influence  upon  his  heart  was  deeper 
and  likely  to  be  more  enduring.  He  felt  in  his  inmost 
soul  the  beseechings  and  sobs  which  shook  the  poor  girl's 
frame,  and  made  her  tremble  as  she  still  hung  upon  his 
bosom. 

For  some  time  all  attention  was  given  to  soothe  and 
restore  her  to  confidence.  Constant  assurances  of  safety 
and  protection,  the  gentlest  and  almost  womanly  cares, 
and  even  caresses  were  necessary  to  effect  it. 

When  at  length  she  had  become  somewhat  more  calm, 
and  the  men  had  leisure  to  look  around  them,  to  their 
astonishment  Jacob  was  nowhere  to  be  seen ! 

Even  the  vigilance  of  the  omniscient  Catfoot  had  been 
eluded.  The  maniac  was,  indeed,  gone,  and  none  knew 
how  or  when.  At  that  moment,  however,  there  was  little 
disposition  to  inquire  into  the  matter,  as  weightier  con- 


THE    RESCUE.  163 

siderations  pressed  upon  them.  Their  own  position 
to  grow  unpleasant  and  embarrassing.  They  might,  in 
that  peculiarly-formed  cell,  all  easily  be  made  and  held 
prisoners  ;  and  the  late  fugitive  now  had  it  in  his  power 
to  hold  his  pursuers  fast  in  the  trap  into  which  they  had 
entered.  One  man  at  the  passage  might  prevent  the 
egress  of  a  hundred.  Their  apprehensions  on  this  score 
were,  however,  groundless,  as  soon  appeared  by  Catfoot 
and  Brigham  ascending  to  the  opening  which  they  found 
still  uncovered,  and  outside  of  which,  to  prevent  future 
accidents,  they  now  established  themselves  as  sentinels. 
Although  this  precaution  relieved  any  immediate  cause 
of  uneasiness  on  account  of  Jacob,  it  was  necessary,  or,  at 
all  events,  desirable  that  they  should  make  a  speedy  exit 
from  the  cavern.  The  poor  girl  who  had  been  so 
strangely  immured,  and  so  providentially  discovered  there, 
though  hope  now  lighted  her  eye  and  flushed  her  cheek, 
must  have  suffered  too  much  already  from  fatigue,  ex 
posure,  and  apprehension ;  and  the  damp  air  and  doleful 
recollections  of  the  grotto  were  not  at  all  calculated  to 
restore  or  to  benefit  her,  and  their  prolonged  influence 
might  be  seriously  injurious. 

"  Do  you  feel  yourself  able  to  go  now,  my  dear  young 
lady?"  said  Walcott,  after  a  while. 

"  Certainly,"  she  eagerly  replied;  "let  us  get  out  of 
this  horrid  place  at  once.  If  I  were  dying  I  would  still 
try  to  crawl  out  to  see  the  beautiful  world  and  to  breathe 
the  fresh  air  once  again." 

As  she  said  this,  tears  forced  themselves  into  her  eyes 
again,  and  Walcott  could  not  help  thinking  her,  at  that 
moment,  by  far  the  handsomest,  or,  at  all  events,  the 
most  engaging  and  lovable  girl  he  had  ever  met.  The 


164  SARATOGA. 

trust  which  she  reposed  in  him  he  felt  to  be  a  most  grate 
ful  one ;  and  no  obstacle  seemed  too  imposing,  or  danger 
too  imminent  to  prove  the  zeal  which  he  cherished  on  her 
behalf.  To  serve  her  was  a  happiness,  but  to  have  saved 
her  was  a  blessing.  Tenderly,  therefore,  did  he  half 
guide  and  half  carry  her  up  the  rude  steps  of  the  side 
which  had  to  answer  the  purpose  of  a  stairs.  Tenderly 
again  did  he  watch  her  trembling  foot  as,  awed  by  the 
darkness  and  agitated  by  the  sudden  change  in  her  situa 
tion,  she  unskillfully  sought  her  way  down  the  outer  rock. 
At  this  time,  Walcott  bore  no  torch,  and  he  saw,  with 
much  concern,  that  those  of  his  associates  were  already 
nearly  burned  out.  He,  therefore,  determined  to  take  the 
shorter  route  to  the  open  air,  though  it  might  expose  his 
charge  to  the  chill  of  the  night  atmosphere  and  the  fur 
ther  fatigue  of  a  walk  through  the  damp  woods.  They, 
therefore,  bent  their  steps  toward  the  western  opening. 
Brigham  and  the  Indian  now  went  on  as  before,  answer 
ing  the  purpose  of  the  link-boys  of  ancient  days. 

Lucile,  meanwhile,  still  clung  closely  to  the  arm  of  her 
deliverer.  She  felt  no  embarrassment  in  the  act.  She 
was  still  very  young,  and  was  yet  but  half  relieved  from 
her  first  great  grief.  She  was  walking  by  the  side  of  her 
preserver,  and  already  felt  a  kind  of  property  in  him.  All 
barriers  of  reserve  and  distance  were  annihilated.  She 
spoke  but  little,  for  she  was  still  too  much  agitated  and  too 
doubtful  of  the  issue — almost  too  doubtful  of  the  present 
reality.  It  might  all  be  a  cruel  mocking  dream  ! 

To  the  young  man  who  witnessed  her  emotions,  who 
felt  her  little  hand  trembling  upon  his  arm,  who  overheard 
her  half-suppressed  sobs,  as  they  walked  slowly  along,  her 
gentle  clinging  and  her  trustful  looks,  were  fraught  with 


THE    RESCUE.  165 

dangerous  excitement,  and  awoke  every  generous  and 
sympathetic  emotion  of  which  his  nature  was  capable. 

If  it  was  a  dream,  as  her  fears  would  still  cruelly  sug 
gest,  to  him  the  dream  was  most  delightful.  Ah !  what 
joy  it  was  to  have  saved  her  from  danger !  What  a  rich 
compensation  for  the  exertion,  already  shone  in  the  tender 
light  of  her  loving  eye ! 

But  it  was  not  long  before  those,  who  had  been  so  long 
buried  in  the  recesses  of  a  subterranean  world,  found 
themselves  clambering  up  the  steeps  of  the  outward  pas 
sage.  When  they  issued  from  the  cavern,  their  eyes  were 
dazzled  by  an  unexpected  luster ;  and  it  was  some  time 
before  they  could  appreciate  that  the  sun  was  already  high 
in  the  heavens,  and  that  an  effulgent  morning  was  illum 
inating  the  world !  No  morning  ever  shone  in  the  Hades 
they  had  left  behind.  There,  all  was  gloom,  and  "the 
blackness  of  darkness  forever."  The  music  of  its 
mysterious  streams,  the  brilliancy  of  its  crystal  chambers 
was  forgotten.  They  saw  the  glorious  day,  the  upper 
world,  the  emerald  woods ;  and  their  anxious  hearts  panted 
for  nothing  more  joyous  or  more  beautiful. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

WHAT    FOLLOWED. 

BY  the  side  of  Brigham's  log  house,  that  morning,  stood 
M'Carty,  holding  by  the  bridle  one  of  the  horses  on  which 
the  excursion  party  had  made  their  way  thither.  The 
sun  was  already  more  than  an  hour  high ;  and  the  man 
as  he  waited,  began  to  manifest  some  signs  of  impatience 
at  the  delay  of  others  which  kept  him  there.  At  length, 
however,  Colonel  Belden  came  out  of  the  house  bearing  a 
letter  in  his  hand. 

"  I  have  written  a  hasty  note  to  Mr.  Valcour,"  he  said ; 
"and  I  hope,  M'Carty,  that  you  will  take  care  that  he 
gets  it  as  speedily  as  possible.  So  long  as  there  was  a 
rational  chance  of  recovering  his  daughter,  I  wished  to 
spare  him  the  pain  of  our  apprehensions.  But  I  am  con 
vinced  that  any  further  hesitation  would  be  a  mistaken 
kindness.  Break  the  news  to  him  as  gently  as  you  can, 
and  do  not  allow  him  to  imagine  that  the  case  is  entirely 
hopeless,  bad  as  it  now  looks." 

"There's  just  a  chance,  as  you  say,  colonel,"  said 
M'Carty  in  reply ;  "  but  between  you  and  me,  it's  mighty 
queer  that  Walcott  and  the  rest  on  'em  ain't  back  before 
now.  Don't  you  think  I'd  better  wait  till  we  hear  from 
them,  at  least?" 

"I  see  no  great  use  in  it,"  answered  the  other.     "I 


A    NEW    SURPRISE.  167 

presume  that  the  reason  of  their  delay  is,  that  their  torches 
have  burned  out,  and  that  as  they  have  to  grope  their  way 
back  in  the  darkness,  they  move  but  slowly.  My  great 
surprise  is  that  a  cavern  should  be  found  to  exist  here,  of  , 
an  extent  sufficient  to  cause  the  consumption  of  so  much 
time  in  exploring  it.  It  can  hardly  be  that  the  lunatic 
has  managed  to  inveigle  three  strong  and  active  men.  It 
is  very  remarkable.  Still,  all  that  remains  to  be  done, 
after  you  are  gone,  is  simply  to  make  up  another  party 
of  exploration ;  and  with  a  more  ample  supply  of  lights, 
ropes  and  perhaps  ladders,  to  go  in  after  them,  and  either 
show  them  the  way,  or  furnish  them  the  means  of  getting 
out.  I  purpose  to  be  one  of  the  new  company  myself,  to 
be  sure  that  every  thing  is  done  properly." 

"If  you'd  take  my  advice,  colonel,''7  said  the  man, 
"  you'll  do  no  such  thing.  A  new  sarch  is  well  enough,  to 
be  sure ;  but  you  can  do  more  good  where  you  are  than 
under  ground,  you  may  depend  on't.  By  all  means.  lnt  me 
stay,  and  see  to  this  business,  and  send  Joe  to  Ballto.vu/' 

At  this  moment  their  conversation  was  interrupted  by 
a  noise,  coming  apparently  from  the  valley  below.  Turn 
ing  their  eyes  in  that  direction,  they  saw  the  individual 
just  spoken  of,  running  up  the  bank,  with  might  and 
main,  and  making  directly  for  where  they  stood ;  while, 
as  he  came,  every  now  and  then,  he  turned  his  head,  and 
looked  behind  him,  as  if  apprehensive  that  some  pursuer 
might  be  close  upon  him. 

Hardly  a  moment  had  elapsed  after  his  ascending  the 
brow  of  tho  hill,  before  another  became  visible,  whose  ap 
pearance  would  seem  fully  to  justify  the  haste  and  fear 
which  poor  Joe  had  manifested.  It  was  none  other  than 
Jacob  himself,  who,  contrary  to  his  usual  habits,  did  not 


168  SARATOGA. 

trumpet  forth  his  presence  by  his  usual  burst  of  laughter. 
When  he  came  in  sight  of  the  other  two  men,  he  paused, 
while  an  expression  of  baffled  rage  came  over  his  features, 
as  though  he  had  been  suddenly  thwarted  in  the  execution 
of  some  fixed  purpose.  For  a  moment  he  glared  upon 
them  as  if  half  inclined  to  attack  all  three.  But  appa 
rently  convinced  that  the  odds  were  too  great,  he  aban 
doned  his  purpose,  and  turning  about,  disappeared  behind 
the  crest  of  the  hill. 

The  whole  had  occurred  so  suddenly,  and  had  passed 
so  rapidly,  that  Colonel  Belden  and  his  attendant  had  not 
determined  upon  any  course  to  pursue  toward  the  crazy 
man  before  it  was  too  late  to  do  any  thing. 

Meanwhile,  Joe  had  not  paused  until  he  had  placed  the 
other  two  men  between  himself  and  the  danger.  Once 
there,  he  awaited  with  them  the  upshot  of  the  affair. 
"When  Jacob  had  disappeared,  and  M'Carty  had  had  time 
to  acquire  a  faint  comprehension  of  the  affair,  he  turned 
indignantly  to  the  Indian,  saying : 

' '  Why,  Joe,  you  sneaking  varmint  you,  what  do  you 
run  off  that  way  for  ?  Ain't  you  got  the  pluck  to  stand 
up  for  yourself  like  a  man?" 

"How  you  fight  medicine  man,  eh?  No  remember 
tumble  last  night?"  said  Joe. 

"He's  no  medicine  man,  as  you  call  him,  at  all,  Joe," 
answered  M'Carty ;  "  he's  nothing  but  a  poor  crazy  devil, 
and  a  little  pluck  would  keep  him  quiet." 

:<Yes,"  said  Joe,  "he  de  debbil — no  keep  him  still 
though.  He  come  out  hole  dis  time  too.  How  he  get  in 
there,  you  think,  eh?" 

"  Get  in  there !"  said  M'Carty.  "  Why,  did  n't  you 
tell  me  that  there's  another  entrance  to  the  place  some- 


JOE'S    REVENGE.  169 

where  in  the  woods?  You  see,  sir,"  he  continued,  turn 
ing  to  Colonel  Belden,  "  Joe  here,  pretends  the  cave  is  as 
big  as  all  out  doors,  and  has  another  outlet  about  a  mile 
to  the  west.  It 's  a  tough  story ;  but  I  begin  to  think 
there's  something  in  it." 

While  this  short  dialogue  was  going  forward,  Marion 
Belden  had  also  issued  from  the  cabin,  and  joined  the 
group ;  her  attention  having  been  attracted  by  the  slight 
stir  which  had  been  caused  by  the  reappearance  of  the 
maniac.  Her  countenance  was  pale,  and  exhibited  traces 
of  watching  and  anxiety. 

"  Have  you  heard  any  thing  of  Lucile  yet  ?"  she  asked. 
"I  thought  from  the  noise  just  now  that  Arthur  must 
have  got  back." 

"  No,  my  child,"  answered  Colonel  Belden.  "It  waa 
only  the  wild  man,  who  has  made  his  appearance  again ; 
but  he  seems  to  be  alone.  And  I  am  sorry  to  say  that 
we  have  had  no  word  of  Arthur  or  his  companions,  since 
their  departure  last  evening." 

"Ugh!  see!"  suddenly  exclaimed  the  Indian,  inter 
rupting  the  conversation ;  while  he  pointed  to  the  oppo 
site  side  of  the  valley,  where  his  trained  eye  had  detected 
the  retreating  form  of  Jacob  going  up  through  the  bushes, 
and  pausing  among  the  thick  shadows  of  the  pines. 

It  is  perhaps  needless  to  say,  that  the  savage,  when  he 
had  been  suddenly  startled  by  the  second  apparition  of 
the  maniac  issuing  from  the  cavern,  had,  in  the  terror  of 
the  moment,  forgotten  what  might  have  furnished  a  suffi 
cient  explanation  of  the  circumstances,  namely,  that  the 
place  was  possessed  of  two  entrances.     This,  in  fact  did 
lot  occur  to  him,  until  it  was  recalled  to  his  mind  by 
I'Carty.     It  then  served  in  «ome   measure,  to  relieve 


170  SARATOGA. 

him  of  his  superstitious  fears ;  but  as  his  enemy  thus  be 
came  more  human  in  his  eyes,  and  less  an  object  of  awe, 
he  became  more  an  object  of  hatred  and  of  revenge.  Over 
this  the  mind  of  the  savage,  from  that  moment,  began  to 
brood. 

Meanwhile,  across  the  little  valley,  all  could  now  see 
the  fantastic  figure  pointed  out  by  Joe,  moving  stealthily 
among  the  open  trees  like  a  baffled  beast  of  prey.  To  get  a 
clearer  view  of  him  they  moved  to  the  verge  of  the  ledge, 
and  watched  him  somewhat  as  spectators  in  a  menagerie 
gaze  through  the  bars  of  a  cage  at  some  ferocious  beast. 
The  object  of  their  scrutiny  did  not  at  all  belie  the  simile. 
He  coolly  moved  about,  sometimes  at  a  less,  and  some 
times  at  a  greater  distance,  but  always  with  the  apparent 
intent  of  watching  their  movements  or  of  waiting  for  an 
opportunity  to  perpetrate  some  further  mischief. 

"  Had  we  not  better  get  away  from  this  dreadful  neigh 
borhood?"  asked  Marion,  trembling  at  the  sight  of  Jacob, 
though  he  was  at  a  distance ;  and  remembering  with  a 
pang,  the  fate  of  poor  Lucile,  who  might  yet  be  in  the 
power  of  the  frightful  creature. 

"No,  my  child/'  replied  Colonel  Belden,  "we  are  en 
tirely  secure  where  we  are ;  and  we  must  let  no  clew  es 
cape  us,  by  which  it  is  possible  to  find  out  something  of 
the  lost  one.  But  in  the  mean  time,  do  you  go  to  the 
house  and  endeavor  to  rest  yourself,  for  your  eyes  are 
heavy  and  your  cheeks  are  pale." 

So  saying,  the  old  gentleman  kissed  her  affectionately 
on  the  forehead,  and  she  was  about  turning  away  to  obey  _ 
his  injunction,  when  they  were  startled  by  the  sharp  re 
port  of  a  rifle  shot,  which  exploding  just  beside  them, 
sent  its  long,  crashing  echoes  to  a  distance  through  the 


SHOOTING    THE    MOON.  171 

forest.  On  looking  around  they  saw  Indian  Joe  rising 
from  behind  a  stump,  with  the  piece  in  his  hand;  the 
smoke  of  the  burnt  powder  slowly  rolling  away  from  the 
spot. 

"Ho!  ho!"  shouted  the  hoarse  voice  of  Jacob,  from 
the  other  side  of  the  little  valley  (for  at  him  the  shot  had 
been  aimed).  "Ho!  ho!  how  nice!  Trying  to  hit 
the  moon  in  broad  day  light !  Next  time,  shoot  puss  for 
me,  for  she's  gone  off  with  the  doctor.  Let  me  catch  him 
though!  But  ha!  I'm  off." 

Upon  saying  this  he  suddenly  disappeared  in  the  dis 
tance.  The  cause  was  soon  made  manifest. 

"  I  thought,"  said  Walcott,  who  unexpectedly  stood  be 
hind  Indian  Joe,  and  now  laid  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder, 
' I  thought  I  told  you  not  to  use  fire-arms?" 

On  hearing  the  sound  of  his  voice  all  immediately 
turned  about,  and  saw  the  whole  searching  party  standing 
behind  them,  as  if  they  had  been  produced  there  by  magic ; 
but  what  was  more,  Lucile  was  also  present.  With  her 
eyes  full  of  tears,  and  her  heart  full  of  gratitude,  she 
awaited  the  eager  and  affectionate  salutations  of  her 
friends.  Nor  were  those  salutations  long  in  coming ;  for 
with  a  half  cry  of  delight,  she  was  instantly  caught  in 
the  arms  of  Marion. 

"  Lucile  !  darling  Lucile !  Are  you  here  at  last?  Are 
you  really  here,  safe  and  unharmed  again  ?  You  disap 
peared  so  strangely,  and  remained  away  so  long,  that  we 
almost  ceased  to  hope.  Oh  !  my  darling !  I  should  have 
died  if  you  had  been  lost !" 

"Oh!  Marion,"  she  answered,  while  she  sobbed  at 
the  painful  recollection;  "it  was  dreadful.  It  seems 
yet  like  a  long  and  frightful  dream  !  I  am  almost  afraid 


172  SARATOGA. 

to  trust  my  senses  now.  And  yet,"  she  added  as  she 
pressed  her  friend  to  her  heart,  as  if  to  assure  herself  of 
the  reality  of  what  she  felt  and  saw  ;  "  and  yet,  I  must 
be  awake  at  last !  for  this  must  be  you,  Marion.  Oh  1 
heaven  be  thanked,  it  can  not  be  a  dream  !  But,  Marion, 
what  horrors  I  have  experienced !  And  if  it  had  not 
been  for  Arthur — for  Mr.  Walcott,  I  mean — I  might  still 
be  in  that  frightful  cavern." 

Leaving  the  two  girls  to  communicate  to  each  other 
their  mutual  experiences  and  anxieties,  as  they  made  their 
way  to  the  house,  we  proceed  to  call  the  attention  of  the 
reader  to  other  things  which  were  said,  and  other  events 
which  transpired  around  them. 

It  being  no  longer  necessary  to  send  off  a  messenger  to 
Monsieur  Valcour,  as  had  been  contemplated,  the  horse 
which  M'  Carty  had  paraded,  was  now  restored  by  him  to 
the  shed  which  served  as  a  stable.  The  three  men  who  had 
just  returned  with  the  abducted  girl,  and  who  had  been 
so  long  awake  and  in  active  motion,  were  glad  enough  to 
seek  a  little  repose. 

Lucile  herself,  as  the  excitement  by  which  she  had  been 
buoyed  up  subsided  in  the  sense  of  safety,  soon  sought  a 
couch,  and  fell  into  a  long  and  deep  sleep.  Every  tired 
muscle  lay  in  a  trance  as  profound  as  that  which  vailed 
her  eyesight,  and  suspended  the  worn  and  weary  mechan 
ism  of  her  mind. 

As  the  sun  rose  higher,  the  heat  grew  intense.  Colonel 
Belden  had  sauntered  down  to  that  ever  wonderful 
phenomenon,  the  Rock  Spring.  The  cool  ripple  of  the 
neighboring  brook,  and  the  gushing  sound  of  the  spark 
ling  water  that  poured  up  from  the  stony  hydrant,  were 
no  less  grateful  to  his  ears  in  the  fervid  heat  of  that  sum- 


REPOSE.  173 

mer  day,  than  was  the  mineral  water  itself  to  his  thirsting 
palate. 

Catfoot  had  withdrawn  to  the  Indian  village  hard  by ; 
and  M'Carty,  after  some  while,  might  have  been  seen 
emerging  with  many  a  stretch  of  his  limbs  and  many  a 
lazy  yawn,  from  some  unknown  dozing-place  among  the 
horses.  The  drowsy  influence  of  the  hour  upon  him  could 
only  produce  a  few  short  cat-naps,  from  which  it  would 
seem  he  was  not  yet  fully  relieved.  With  idle  and 
loitering  steps  he  also  bent  his  way  to  the  spring,  where 
the  old  colonel,  like  a  sentinel  on  duty,  was  pacing  to  and 
fro. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

INDIAN    JOE. 

M'CARTY  belonged  to  a  class  of  men  whose  self-esteem 
is  not  lessened  by  any  occupation  or  relative  position  in 
which  they  may  be  placed.  Without  positive  imperti 
nence,  he  felt  himself  to  be  every  man's  equal ;  and  he 
would  have  had  no  more  scruple  in  addressing  the  highest 
above  himself  in  station  and  character,  than  in  accosting 
a  stable  boy.  A  talk  was  all  the  same  to  him,  whether 
with  the  one  or  with  the  other. 

"Nice  day  this,  colonel,"  said  he,  as  he  came  up; 
"  and  one  feels  it  in  particular,  arter  the  tarnal  tug  we've 
had  for  a  day  or  so.  Have  you  any  notion  whether  that 
crazy  critter  is  hanging  about  us  yet  anywhere  ?" 

"Indeed,"  replied  Colonel  Belden,  " it  would  be  diffi 
cult  to  say ;  but  I  imagine  he  can  not  be  far  off,  especially 
after  what  Mr.  Walcott  has  told  me  of  his  habitation  in 
the  cave." 

"By  the  way,"  broke  in  the  other;  " where' s  Joe? 

'as  he  and  I  are  the  only  ones  beside  yourself  fit  to  be 

about,  one  or  other  on  us  ought  to  be  keeping  a  lookout." 

"He  has  not  been  seen  since  Brigham  lay  down;  I 
suppose,  like  the, rest  of  you,  he  felt  tired,  and  has  gone 
somewhere  to  rest  himself." 

"Them  Injuns,  colonel,"  answered  M'Carty,  "don't 


INDIAN    JOE.  175 

need  no  rest  between  times.  I '  ve  knowed  'em  to  be  on  a 
run  for  a  week,  day  and  night,  and  then  sleep  it  all  out 
when  the  scurry  was  over.  And  it's  mighty  convenient 
for  'em,  I  can  tell  you,  seem'  the  life  they  lead." 

"  Why,  M'Carty,"  answered  Colonel  Belden,  "  it  seems 
to  me  that  sailors  are  not  the  only  persons  who  spin  yarns. 
You  tell  a  tough  story  now  and  then  yourself:  this  about 
the  Indians  going  a  week  without  sleep,  for  example." 

"Not  a  bit  on  it,  colonel,"  was  the  ready  answer; 
"not  a  bit  on  it.  I've  seen  things  as  strange  myself; 
and  Sandy  Brigham  here,  if  he  was  awake,  could  tell 
some  things  a  great  deal  more  astonishing,  which  hap 
pened  to  himself.  He's  been  a  man  of  mighty  active 
habits,  and  has  an  obsarvin'  turn  of  mind,  I  can  tell  you, 
and  you  know  it  too." 

"I've  known  him  for  a  brave,  prudent  and  skillful 
man  all  his  life ;  but  I  have  never  known  him  to  tell  such 
wonders  as  you  talk  of,"  said  Colonel  Belden. 

"  Leaving  it  to  his  friends,  I  reckon,"  answered 
M'Carty,  "to  blow  his  horn  for  him — for  Sandy  Brigham 
ain't  a  bit  of  a  brag.  But  I  've  often  hearn  tell  of  some 
of  his  doin's,  afore  the  scrape  he  got  into  with  Burgoyne ; 
in  fact  afore  the  war  came  into  these  parts,  when  the  red 
skins  was  decently  quiet  and  civil-like." 

"What,  for  example,  did  he  do  so  very  remarkable?" 
asked  Colonel  Belden,  by  way  of  encouragement  to  his 
companion,  who  was  obviously  bent  upon  a  story. 

"Well,  among  other  things,"  said  M'Carty,  catching 
at  the  implied  permission,  like  a  fish  at  a  hook — "among 
other  things  something  like  this  happened.  It  seems  that 
afore  the  war  there  was  two  neighbors  down  in  Clifton 
Park  who  differed  in  politics  and  often  had  disputes  about 


176  SARATOGA. 

it.  One  was  for  the  country,  and  the  other  for  the  king ; 
and  after  the  battle  of  Bunker's  Hill  the  neighborhood  be 
came  too  hot  with  the  king's  friend  and  he  had  to  make 
tracks  for  Canada,  leaving  his  farm  and  every  thing  behind 
him.  There  he  staid  for  a  year  or  so,  hoping  for  quieter 
times,  but  as  none  came  he  thought  he'd  just  go  back,  in 
a  secret  way,  and  look  arter  his  property  a  little.  He 
was  mighty  sly  about  it,  as  you  can  guess ;  and  so  no 
body  knowed  any  thing  of  his  being  about  till  one  day  in 
shying  across  a  meadow  of  his  old  neighbor,  who  should 
he  come  plump  upon  but  the  man  himself,  who  was  there 
mowing.  The  old  grudge  between  'em  came  up  worse  than 
ever,  and  the  old  quarrel  soon  grew  hot  between  'em,  till 
the  neighbor,  in  his  fury,  was  on  the  pint  of  hacking  off 
his  legs  with  the  scythe.  Upon  this,  the  Tory  begged  fr>* 
his  life,  and  was  let  off.  He  soon  sneaked  away  and  went 
back  to  Canada  again.  But  he  did  n't  relish  the  fright  he 
had  got ;  and  so  he  detarmined  on  revenge. 

"  With  that  he  gets  together  a  gang  of  Injun  runners 
and  come  down  to  the  Mohawk  country  again.  Mean 
time  his  old  neighbor  had  crossed  the  river  and  was  now 
living  on  the  south  side.  It  so  happened  that  he  was  the 
only  one  who  kept  a  boat  along  there,  and  though  the 
stream  was  not  deep  it  was  wide  and  rapid,  and  full  of 
sharp  eddies  and  deep  holes.  When  they  came  to  his 
house,  which  they  did  on  a  dark  night,  they  made  a 
great  ado,  and  got  him  up  out  of  bed  under  pretense  that 
they  was  in  pursuit  of  a  damn  Tory,  as  they  said,  and 
wanted  him  to  come  out  and  take  them  across  the  river 
in  his  boat  Up  he  jumps,  hearty  enough  at  such  a 
call,  and  fairly  rowed  them  to  the  other  side  without  sus 
pecting  any  thing  wrong.  But  when  once  over,  lo  and 


INDIAN    JOE.  177 

behold !  his  old  inhny,  whose  legs  he  was  so  near  mowing 
off,  makes  himself  known,  and  the  astonished  farmer,  all 
at  once,  finds  himself  a  prisoner.  There  was  no  help  for 
it,  away  he  must  go.  His  scalp  hung  loose  upon  his 
head,  with  half  a  dozen  tomahawks  whizzing  about  his 
ears.  Away  they  started  for  Canada  which  lay  rising  of 
two  hundred  miles  off,  straight  through  the  woods. 

"  But  you  see  the  prisoner's  wife  waited  and  watched 
for  him  till  broad  day-light.  Then  she  grew  oneasy ;  no 
boat  was  in  sight,  and  every  thing,  fur  and  near,  waa 
hushed  and  quiet.  She  grew  scared  and  hurried  off  to 
tell  the  neighbors.  They  all  begun  lookin'  and  sarchin', 
but  not  one  of  'em  could  tell  what  to  make  of  it,  and  they 
about  give  it  up.  But  it  happened  that  Sandy  Brigham  was 
down  that  morning  at  Schenectady  selling  some  pelts.  He 
heard  the  news  and  guessed  how  it  all  was  ;  so  taking  a 
few  Oneidas,  friends  of  his,  with  him,  he  made  arter  the 
runaways.  As  soon  as  he  struck  the  trail,  which  he  had 
no  trouble  in  doing,  he  found  out  pretty  near  what  was 
the  matter.  The  Injuns  knowed  a  Huron's  footmark  at 
once.  Brigham  had  carried  along  some  dried  beef  for  the 
journey,  as  they  would  have  no  time  to  hunt,  but  the 
Injuns  took  with  them  nothing  to  eat,  and  they  did  n't 
dare  to  use  their  guns  for  fear  of  letting  the  Hurona 
know  they  was  after  them.  They  found  the  trail  pretty 
fresh  nearly  all  the  way.  It  took  nigh  on  to  eight  days  to 
perform  the  journey,  and  though  Sandy  had  Iflit  just 
enough  provision  to  keep  himself  alive,  the  Injuns  took 
nothing  unless,  maybe,  a  root  or  so  now  and  then." 

"But."  said  Colonel  Belden,   interrupting  the  nar 
rative  which  was  fast   bordering  upon  the  extravagant, 
"did  not  Brigham  offer  them  a  part  of  his  own  fare  ?" 
12 


& 

178  SARATOGA. 

"  Sartain,"  said  M'Carty,  "but  they  wouldn't  let  on 
that  they  was  hungry.  They  only  pulled  their  belts 
tighter  and  pretended  that  goin'  without  victuals  kept 
them  in  better  running  order,  and  made  their  scent 
keener." 

"And  did  they,"  asked  the  colonel,  "after  so  much 
running  and  fasting,  come  up  with  the  fugitives  after 
all?" 

"Not  exactly,"  was  the  answer;  "they  only  caught 
sight  on  'em  as  they  was  pulling  across  the  St.  Lawrence 
in  a  canoe,  though  they  had  the  satisfaction  of  sending  a 
few  bullets  arter  them.  But  it  was  of  no  use." 

" But  what  was  the  termination  of  it  all?"  asked  Col 
onel  Belden. 

"  The  end  on  it  was,  that  the  man  had  to  stay  in  Can 
ada  till  arter  the  war ;  and  when  he  got  back,  his  wife 
thought  it  was  his  ghost.  And  he  said  that  all  the  way 
to  the  St.  Lawrence,  when  they  first  took  him,  he  was 
compelled  to  carry  a  smoothing  iron  in  each  hand,  as  a 
kind  of  punishment." 

"I  have  heard  something  like  the  same  story  before," 
said  Colonel  Belden,  "but  I  never  heard  that  the  Indians 
fasted  during  the  journey ;  and  I  did  not  even  know  that 
it  was  Brigham  who  led  the  party,  though  such  enter 
prises  were  then  common  to  him." 

"  But,  colonel,"  said  M'Carty,  with  a  slight  twinkle 
of  the^ye,  as  he  shifted  a  quid  of  tobacco  from  one  cheek 
to  the  other,  "  the  most  curious  part  on't  was,  that  arter 
the  hunt  was  over,  what  should  the  Oneidas  do,  but  shoot 
a  lot  of  deer,  roast  'em  whole,  and  eat  for  almost  twelve 
hours  without  stoppin'." 

"M'Carty,"  said   the  old  colonel,  laughing,  as  he 


INDIAN    JOE.  179 

paused  in  his  little  walk,  "it  seems  to  me  that  you  have 
made  a  great  mistake  in  life ;  you  should  have  been  a 
sailor,  or  a  romance  writer." 

"  I  reckon  I  can  navigate  the  woods  as  well  as  any 
sailor,  colonel ;  and  I  never  yet  knowed  the  dark  who 
could  bring  down  a  buck  at  a  hundred  yards  better  than 
I  can.  So  I'm  satisfied  as  I  am." 

"  No  doubt,"  replied  the  colonel,  "  it 's  easy  enough  to 
see  that.  But,  M'Carty,  whatever  your  friends,  the 
Oneidas,  might  do,  I  feel  at  this  time  greatly  inclined  to 
get  something  to  eat,  as  it  is  past  noon.  And  I  dare  say 
the  rest  of  our  people  up  at  the  house  would  like  to  do 
the  same." 

So  saying,  he  moved  away,  inviting  the  other  to  follow 
him  to  the  log-cabin.  But  the  latter,  after  walking  a  few 
steps,  paused,  saying : 

"Don't  you  think,  on  the  whole,  colonel,  that  I'd  bet 
ter  stay  behind,  and  keep  guard  like ;  for  I'm  not  yet 
quite  easy  in  my  mind  about  wild  Jake.  The  vicious 
sarpint  may  be  arter  more  mischief." 

"  Do  as  you  like,  my  friend,"  said  the  colonel ;  "  per 
haps  you  are  right  to  keep  a  good  look-out." 

M'Carty  accordingly  staid  behind,  taking  his  post  a 
little  beyond  the  Rock  Spring,  in  the  direction  of  the 
mouth  of  the  cavern. 

"The  colonel  is  a  nice  man,"  he  muttered  to  himself, 
as  the  other  disappeared  over  the  brow  of  the  hill,  "and 
I  dare  say,  was  a  brave  officer ;  but  he's  no  good  listener, 
that's  sartin.  His  faith  would  n't  move  mountains  by  a 
long  shot.  I  suppose  young  Walcott,  or  captain,  as  folks 
sometimes  call  him,  as  soon  as  he  is  rested,  and  has  got 
a  little  to  eat,  will  be  for  hunting  up  this  wild  Jake  again, 


180  SARATOGA. 

to  get  him  caged.  I  shouldn't  object  to  having  a  hand 
in  that  job  myself;  and  so,  as  soon  as  they've  got  through 
dinner,  I'll  try  and  get  a  cold  snack,  and  be  ready  to  jine 
'em,  in  case  they  want  another  scurry.  Meantime,  I'll 
keep  my  eye  open,  and  in  particular  watch  that  wolf-hole 
yonder." 

After  Colonel  Belden  had  departed,  M'Carty  continued, 
as  he  had  intended,  upon  the  lookout,  sometimes  pacing 
slowly  across  the  open  space,  and  sometimes  resting  be 
neath  the  shadows  of  the  neighboring  bushes.  Every 
thing  around  him  remained  quiet ;  and  nothing  louder 
than  the  humming  of  bees  or  the  ripple  of  water  was 
heard.  There  was  no  sign  of  the  vicinity  of  Jacob  ;  and 
although  the  self-constituted  sentinel  kept  his  eyes  fast 
ened  upon,  or  wandering  over  the  alder  copse,  in  search 
of  him,  he  was  neither  gratified  or  alarmed  by  a  glimpse 
of  his  uncouth  figure. 

He  soon  saw  Indian  Joe  emerging  from  the  thicket  and 
bearing  in  his  hand  something  which  at  first  was  undistin- 
guishable,  but  which,  on  a  nearer  view,  turned  out  to  be 
nothing  more  than  a  large  decayed  leaf.  He  was  puzzled 
to  know  for  what  purpose  such  a  trifling  object  had  been 
picked  up  and  preserved.  The  Indian  bore  it  carefully 
in  the  open  palm  of  his  hand,  for  the  leaf  seemed  to  be  of 
the  last  autumn's  shedding,  and  was  so  tattered  and  dry 
that  it  threatened  to  be  blown  off  with  every  puff  of  wind, 
or  to  fall  to  pieces  upon  the  slightest  agitation.  Without 
uttering  a  word  he  brought  it  forward  and  held  it  up 
before  the  eyes  of  his  wondering  companion,  who  saw 
nothing  in  its  shape  or  character  to  justify  so  much  care 
and  attention.  It  was  in  no  respect  different  from  any 
other  old  leaf,  unless,  perhaps,  that  its  ashy-brown  hue 


INDIAN    JOB.  181 

had  been  in  several  places  dyed  to  a  sort  of  rusty 
purple. 

"What  tomfoolery  is  this  you  are  at  now?"  asked 
M'Carty  at  length,  with  a  little  impatience. 

"  Don't  see  him ?"  answered  Joe,  interrogatively. 

"Don't  see  what,  you  copper-head?"  asked  the  now 
irritated  M'Carty. 

"  Look  again,"  said  the  Indian. 

Hereupon  M'Carty  renewed  his  examination  but  could 
make  no  more  out  of  it  than  he  did  before. 

"  You  no  see  nothing  dis  time?"  asked  Joe  again. 

"  What  the  devil  should  I  see  but  an  old  rotten  oak 
leaf  which  you  have  picked  up  for  some  Indian  witch 
craft  or  confounded  humbug  !"  answered  the  other. 

All  this  Joe  took  quite  coolly ;  while  sitting  quietly 
down  on  a  stump,  he  continued  : 

"  White  men  big  brag,  but  big  fool !" 

"  Come,  come,  you  varmint,"  answered  M'Carty,  "none 
of  your  colored  talk  to-day,  but  if  you  've  got  any  thing  to 
say,  why  out  with  it  at  once,  and  do  n't  be  sitting  there 
like  a  goose  upon  an  egg  ready  to  be  hatched." 

"  Well,  den,"  answered  the  unmoved  Joe,  "  look  on  him 
agin." 

"  Oh  blazes !  go  to  the  devil  with  your  old  leaf,"  re 
plied  the  other,  impatiently. 

"  Him  stain  red  in  the  middle — you  no  see  dat?"  con 
tinued  Joe. 

"Well,  what  if  I  do?"  answered  M'Carty.  "What 
does  that  mean?" 

"  Him  blood,  dat's  all,"  replied  Joe. 

"  Blood !"  exclaimed  the  other,  "  and  pray  whose  blood 
is  it;  and  how  do  you  know  it,  eh  ?" 


182  SARATOGA. 

"  Big  Jake — medicine  man — debbill,  what  you  call 
him?"  answered  Joe. 

"But  what  makes  you  think  it  is  his  blood?"  asked 
M'Carty. 

"Find  him  over  dere,"  said  Joe,  pointing  across  the 
valley;  "  hit  him  wid  gun,  you  know." 

"Eh?  what?"  asked  his  companion.  "And  so  you 
suppose  you  hit  the  critter,  do  you  ?" 

"Yes,  know  him,"  answered  Joe;  "see  blood  drop, 
drop  on  ground,  on  leaf,  on  bush." 

"By  George,  Joe,"  said  M'Carty,  "if  you're  right 
that  shot  of  yourn  was  n't  thrown  away,  arter  all.  It  may 
help  to  catch  the  critter." 

At  this  moment  the  two  men  saw  Walcott  approaching 
from  the  direction  of  the  house.  It  would  seem  that  he 
had  already  obtained  sufficient  rest  and  refreshment  for 
the  time  being.  When  he  came  up  he  was  made  ac 
quainted  with  the  new  incident  of  which  the  Indian  had 
produced  the  evidence.  But  the  young  man,  instead  of 
manifesting  the  satisfaction  which  the  others  expected, 
and  which  M'Carty  had  not  only  felt  but  plainly  ex 
pressed,  showed  some  degree  of  displeasure.  The  veins 
in  his  forehead  swelled,  his  eye  lowered,  and  his  voice  fell 
to  a  note  of  sternness  as  he  said : 

"  This,  you  see,  is  the  consequence  of  disobeying  me. 
You  have  wounded  the  poor  creature  with  as  little  thought 
as  if  he  were  a  brute.  You  have  come  near  committing 
a  cowardly  murder !  Hereafter,  sir,  I  shall  not  ask  for 
your  help,  and  the  sooner  you  get  away  to  your  cabin 
the  better." 

Joe  understood  but  imperfectly  what  was  said ;  but  still 
he  comprehended  that  he  was,  in  a  manner,  dismissed,  hia 


INDIANJOB.  183 

acts  disavowed,  and  his  future  aid  repudiated.  Neither 
the  rebuke  or  the  manner  in  which  it  was  administered, 
was  agreeable  to  him.  His  Indian  blood  received  a  spark 
which  might  soon  kindle  it  to  a  blaze.  The  feeling  which 
was  aroused  within  him  was  not  one  of  gratitude,  or  re 
morse,  or  humiliation,  or  shame.  He  was  no  whipped 
spaniel  ready  to  lick  the  hand  that  struck  him,  or  to  fawn 
upon  the  master  who  drove  him  from  his  presence.  His 
form  became  more  erect,  and  though  his  look  was  sullen 
and  fierce,  his  manner  was  cool  and  a  little  truculent. 

" No  tink  Joe  good  friend,  eh?"  said  he,  turning  round 
to  Walcott  before  going  away. 

"  You  are  not  a  safe  friend ;  and,  at  all  events,  you  are 
not  fit  to  engage  with  me  in  the  search  I  am  about  to 
make  after  this  poor  creature  you  have  just  shot," 
answered  Walcott. 

"No  good  to  look  for  young  squaw,  eh?"  asked  the 
Indian. 

"Why,  yes,  Joe,"  said  the  young  man,  slightly  blush 
ing;  "I  must  say  you  behaved  like  a  man  there,  and  I 
would  gladly  reward  you  for  it ;  but  you  should  not  have 
fired  upon  a  man  who  does  not  know  what  he  is  about.  It 
is  worse  than  a  common  murder  !  But  we  won't  say  any 
thing  more  about  that  now.  Here  is  something  to  buy 
you  some  powder  and  tobacco ;  and  I  hope  you  will  make 
good  use  of  the  first." 

Saying  this,  Walcott  approached  the  savage  to  offer 
him  some  money,  by  way  of  acknowledgment  for  his 
services. 

"  No  want  him,"  was  the  surly  reply  of  the  Indian. 

Without  waiting  for  any  further  parley,  Joe  slung  his 
gun  over  his  arm,  and  slowly  walked  away.  After  pro- 


184  SARATOGA. 

seeding  a  few  rods  he  again  turned,  and,  with  hia  voice  a 
little  raised,  he  asked,  as  he  touched  the  barrel  of  the 
weapon  with  his  right  hand : 

"Ain't  you  'fraid,  captain?  Ain't  you  'fraid  Injun 
shoot,  eh?  Take  care!  Joe  no  friend:  he  be  worse, 
may  be." 

"No,  you  infernal  sneak,"  exclaimed  Walcott,  now 
irritated  in  his  turn  at  the  threat  which  had  been  used ; 
"  you  had  better  look  to  yourself,  and  mind  that  you  don't 
come  in  my  way  again,  or  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you." 

The  Indian,  upon  this,  again  wheeled  about;  and, 
resuming  his  walk,  in  a  short  time  disappeared  in  the 
forest. 

"Captain,"  said  M'Carty,  "don't  you  think  you  waa 
a  little  too  hard  on  poor  Joe  ?  If  you  had  spoke  to  Cat- 
foot  that  way,  you'd  have  had  a  bullet  through  your  head 
afore  now,  like  enough." 

"I  would  not  have  spoken  in  that  way  to  Catfoot, 
because  he  never  would  have  given  occasion  for  it,"  was 
Walcott' s  answer;  "but  this  fellow,  after  all  I  had  said, 
must  needs  go  and  shoot  at  the  poor  devil,  when  there  was 
no  earthly  reason  for  it.  Besides,  I  half  think  he's  a 
coward,  and  would  do  us  no  good." 

"I  don't  know  that,"  said  M'Carty,  "it's  redskin 
natur  to  shoot  at  whats'ever  they  're  in  chase  of;  and  I 
didn't  quite  like  Joe's  look  when  he  left.  Besides,  he'a 
a  half-breedj  and  so  much  the  worse  on  that  account.  If 
I  was  you,  I'd  sort  of  be  on  my  guard  agin  him." 

"Why  Jim,  you  have  turned  adviser,  have  you?"  said 
Walcott.  "  But  I  imagine  I  can  take  care  of  myself, 
especially  here  in  the  woods  I  have  had  experience 
enough,  I  am  sure." 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE   STORM. 

THE  day  had,  by  this  time,  considerably  worn  away. 
Noon  was  long  since  past ;  and,  though  the  sun  was  get 
ting  near  the  tops  of  the  high  trees  in  the  west,  its  rays 
continued  to  beat  upon  the  earth  with  unabated  fervor, 
while  the  heat  was  as  great  as  at  high  noontide.  The 
whole  forest — and  when  we  speak  of  that,  we  speak  of  all 
the  visible  landscape  where  our  scene  lies — was  hushed 
and  motionless.  No  wind  could  be  felt  to  fan  the  cheek ; 
and  not  so  much  as  a  leaf,  or  the  long  tender  swinging 
limbs  of  the  weeping  willow,  stirred,  to  announce  its  pass 
age.  Yet  the  sensations  of  the  beholder  were  not  those 
of  repose.  In  the  western  sky,  below  the  points  where 
the  fiery  disc  of  the  sun  seemed  burning  its  way  to  the 
horizon,  was  a  long,  dark,  ponderous  bank  of  cloud,  which 
was  slowly  rising  higher  as  if  to  meet  the  descending  sun, 
and  threatened  soon  to  hide  that  burning  luminary  in  its 
dusky  folds. 

Walcott  saw  and  noted  these  indications  of  the  coming 
storm,  as  he  was  returning  toward  the  cabin ;  and  he  felt 
most  grateful  in  the  thought  that  Lucile  had  already  been 
restored  to  shelter  and  to  friends. 

A  summer  tempest,  in  these  latitudes,  always  has  in  it 
something  beautiful,  even  when  most  violent  and  impos- 


SARATOGA. 

ing.  Its  distant  approach  inspires  the  observer  with 
emotions  of  awe;  and  the  solemn  mutterings  of  its 
thunder  puts  to  silence  all  the  minor  noises,  and  hushes 
to  rest  all  the  smaller  passions  of  the  world.  It  comes 
over  the  tops  of  the  distant  hills  in  majestic  progression, 
like  the  regulated  march  of  an  embattled  host ;  it  moves 
through  the  leafy  arches  of  the  wilderness,  whispering  to 
the  leaves,  groaning  with  the  trees,  and  swooping  with  the 
wind,  like  myriads  of  innumerable  spirits  let  loose,  in 
madness  and  riot,  upon  the  earth. 

When  Walcott  reached  the  cabin,  he  found  all  there 
astir.  The  electric,  forerunning  influence  of  the  wide 
storm  had  already  touched  their  eyelids,  as  with  a  wand, 
and  sent  the  enlivening,  wakening  blood  in  full  pulses 
through  their  veins.  Far  away  from  them  yet,  was  the 
power  which  had  thus  chased  slumber  from  their  limbs ; 
for  still  all  nature  seemed  hushed  ;  and  on  the  tall  green 
pine-tops  to  the  eastward,  the  sunb'ght  fell,  in  soft  golden 
fullness.  To  the  eye  in  that  direction,  it  was  yet  the 
mild,  the  beautiful,  the  glowing  summer  afternoon ;  but 
to  the  heart,  and  to  the  nerves,  those  telegraphic  wires  of 
the  human  frame,  there  was  wildness  in  the  air,  and  loud- 
ness,  and  motion,  and  violence,  close  at  hand.  Unconsciously 
the  eye  looked  forth  to  discover  something  new,  something 
startling,  and  shono  the  brigher,  both  from  the  excitement 
which  caused  the  act,  and  from  the  expectation  which  ac 
companied  it. 

So,  as  Walcott  came  up  to  the  door,  was  he  met  by  a 
pair  of  glittering,  grateful  eyes,  which  sparkled  upon  him 
with  still  another  luster  than  that  so  mysteriously  im 
parted  to  them  by  the  approaching  commotion  in  the  ele 
ments.  An  internal  agitation  gave  a  new  glow  to  theii 


THE    STORM.  187 

electrical  light.  And  so  he  felt  it  to  be,  though  the 
knowledge  took  no  form  in  his  thoughts,  and  suggested 
no  phrases  to  his  tongue. 

And  to  whom  did  those  bright  eyes  belong  ?  Their 
proprietor  stood  here  almost  tremulous  with  pleasure — 
with  grateful  pleasure,  for  such  she  took  it  to  be.  Was 
it  Marion  Belden !  Marion  was  looking  forth  at  a  win 
dow  with  her  father's  arm  in  hers.  Her  manner  was 
serene,  her  voice  even;  and  though  her  eye  was  also 
bright,  it  was  not  with  any  peculiar  luster ;  her  cheek  was 
not  flushed ;  she  made  no  eager  step  of  gladness  and  pride 
to  the  door,  as  her  affianced  lover  came  in.  And  yet, 
gratified  she  certainly  was,  but  with  a  degree  of  emotion 
which  a  sister  might  have  felt.  How  different  a  picture 
did  her  face  present  from  that  of  the  little  eager,  proud, 
and  trembling  girl  who  met  the  young  man  at  the  door, 
and  who,  like  one  who  had  a  species  of  right  in  him,  a 
sort  of  franchise  in  his  heart,  still  unconsciously  barred 
his  passage. 

"  Here  you  are  all  safe  and  happy,  and  wide  awake  at 
last,"  said  Walcott,  after  a  pause.  "And  you,  too, 
Marion,  have  got  your  eyes  open  about  the  time  when 
birds  think  of  shutting  theirs." 

"  No  doubt  you  have  had  your  sleep  too,  if  it  comes  to 
that,"  said  Marion. 

"  I  suppose,"  continued  Walcott,  "  I  ought  to  ask  how 
you  all  do,  after  the  late  events,  but  my  eyes  have  already 
answered  that  question.  You  all  look  as  bright  and  wide 
awake  as  if  it  was  morning,  and  you  had  just  been  sounded 
to  breakfast  by  a  gong." 

"  Listen!"  exclaimed  Lucile;  and  as  she  paused,  with 


188  SARATOGA. 

her  finger  lifted  up  as  if  to  enforce  silence,  the  deep 
rumble  of  the  distant  thunder  began  to  be  heard. 

"  Is  that,"  she  said,  "  the  gong  you  spoke  of?" 

"  It  is  certainly  loud  enough  to  have  answered  as  a 
summons  to  a  repast  of  the  ancient  gods ;  but  it  is  also 
heavy  enough  to  suggest  less  pleasant  ideas,  such  as  the 
deep  note  of  midnight  fire-bells,  or  the  distant  boom  of 
breakers  upon  a  rocky  shore,  during  a  storm  at  sea." 

"Why,  Arthur,"  said  Marion,  "what  has  made  you  so 
romantic  all  at  once  ?  According  to  Lucile's  story,  she 
did  not  find  you  writing  poetry  the  other  morning  when 
we  first  came  upon  you  here,  though  the  spot,  she  says, 
was  a  lovely  one." 

"  The  scenery  was  fine,  certainly,"  said  Walcott;  "  but 
though  I  had  not  my  eye  'in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling,'  I 
might  have  been  thinking  poetically  enough  for  all  that. 
Venison  and  verses  go  well  together,  when  the  first  is 
cold  and  the  last  warm.  But  touching  the  thunder, 
which  we  are  just  beginning  to  hear,  it,  somehow  or  other, 
always  impresses  me  with  feelings  which  are  not  quite  ap 
prehensive,  but  which  are  serious  and  solemn.  It  re 
presses  all  levity  in  me  as  effectually  as  the  deep  bass  of  a 
church  organ  during  service." 

By  this  time,  shadows  began  to  creep  over  the  land 
scape,  as  the  rays  of  the  sun  were  cut  off  by  the  clouds, 
and  its  round  red  disc  began  to  dip  into  the  dark  line  of 
the  uprising  bank  of  vapor. 

The  few  domestic  animals  about  the  cabin  now  began 
to  seek  shelter  and  to  prepare  for  rest,  as  if  the  night  had 
already  set  in.  The  creak  of  the  cricket  and  the  whir  of 
the  tree-toad,  filled  the  air  with  their  uncouth  but  not 
unmusical  sounds. 


THE    STORM.  189 

The  inmates  of  the  cabin  now  came  forth  to  enjoy  the 
coolness,  which,  from  the  withdrawal  of  the  sun  and  the 
Approach  of  the  rain,  began  to  pervade  the  atmosphere. 
It  was  worth  while  also  to  observe  the  slowly  lifting 
clouds,  and  the  swelling  storm,  that,  like  a  mighty  raven 
had  already  spread  its  vast  sable  wings  to  the  north  and 
south,  and  threatened  soon  to  overshadow  half  the  visible 
world.  Above  the  white  line  of  its  top,  where  the  heaving 
vapor  looked  like  huge  fleeces  of  snowy  wool,  the  sky  was 
intensely  blue,  and  the  tempest  seemed  to  be  rocking  and 
rolling  up  into  it,  just  as  a  dark-hulled  ship  is  launched 
upon  the  crystal  surface  of  a  still  sea. 

Li  front  of  the  cabin,  then,  all  save  Walcott,  sat  ab 
sorbed  in  the  interest  of  the  scene.  He,  with  equal  ap 
preciation,  but  with  fewer  words,  now  stood,  and  now  slowly 
walked  to  and  fro,  with  his  looks  sometimes  turned  to  the 
sky,  and  sometimes  toward  the  group  of  friends  close  at 
hand.  In  each  direction  his  eye  found  objects  of  admira 
tion  ;  and  to  the  one  his  imagination,  and  to  the  other  his 
heart,  acknowledged  an  impulsive  inclination.  Both 
heaven  and  earth,  at  that  moment,  were  full  of  attraction 
for  him.  The  mystery  of  this  impulse  and  attraction,  in 
either  case,  was  then  to  him  unsolved;  and  his  mind 
sought  no  analysis  of  the  fact,  or  solution  of  the  mystery. 

It  was  still  long  before  the  slow-moving  storm  began 
to  give  token  of  its  immediate  presence  by  other  signs 
than  darkness  in  the  sky,  and  thunder  in  the  air. 

At  first,  gusts  of  wind  could  be  seen  to  sway  the  tops 
of  the  trees  to  the  westward ;  which,  after  a  momentary 
release  from  the  clutch  of  the  passing  blast,  would  again 
bend  over,  yielding  to  the  power  of  the  giant  that  again 
kid  hold  of  them,  and  with  increasing  steadiness  and 


•  /    ' 
*fr 

190  SAEATOQA. 

might,  kept  their  vast  trunks  twisted  and  awry.  Onward, 
and  still  on,  came  the  forerunning  wind.  Now  in  light 
pufis,  it  began  to  whisk  past  the  hamlet.  Its  cold  breath 
was  felt  upon  the  cheek.  Anon,  it  hurried  away,  and 
could  be  seen  agitating  the  brambles  and  branches  on  the 
eastern  side  of  the  valley.  It  tore  asunder  as  it  passed, 
a  few  flower-buds,  and  scattered  their  leaves ;  and  it  shook 
ripe  currants  from  the  bushes  where  they  hung  in  the 
rude  garden  attached  to  the  hut.  Then  again,  came  a 
colder  and  mightier  breath  of  air.  Young  trees  bent 
before  it.  All  light  and  movable  objects  were  shaken 
with  rude  impetuosity,  or  lifted  from  the  ground  and 
hurled  with  violence  away.  Dust  and  leaves  began  to  fill 
the  air,  and  the  whole  atmosphere,  as  if  moving  bodily  to 
the  eastward,  swept  the  earth's  surface  with  a  harsh  rush 
ing  sound,  growing  at  each  moment  more  obstreperously 
audible.  Like  a  cataract,  it  poured  upon  the  ear  in  pain 
ful  intensity.  Still  no  ram  had  yet  fallen.  What  had 
passed  was  the  mere  antecedent.  The  blast,  loud  and 
violent  as  it  was,  was  only  the  precursor  of  one  more 
mighty. 

Those  who  had  watched  it  up  to  this  time,  now  took 
refuge  within  the  cabin.  The  door  was,  however,  left 
open ;  and  from  it,  and  from  the  windows,  the  scene  with 
out  continued  to  be  regarded  with  much  interest.  The 
roar  of  the  wind  through  the  woods  now  rapidly  increased. 
Loud  sharp  peals  of  thunder  began  to  break  overhead,  and 
seemed  to  shake  the  earth  to  its  center.  Large  drops  of 
rain,  like  the  spent  shot  of  distant  musketry,  began  to 
patter  upon  the  earth.  They  were  soon  followed  by  a 
wild  discordant  sound  of  the  high  wind,  mingled  with 
thick  falling  rain,  which  formed  the  real  commencement 


THE    STORM.  191 

of  the  storm.  All  before  had  been  skirmishing,  this  was 
the  grand  charge  of  the  elemental  army.  Suddenly  it 
broke  over  the  strong-timbered  dwelling,  and  while  the 
huge  logs  of  its  frame  shook,  as  though  a  new  Samson  had 
laid  hold  of  its  pillars,  the  windows  were  dashed  with 
cataracts  of  water,  and  the  outer  air  became  opaque  and 
impenetrable  from  the  rushing  mist,  and  the  compactness 
of  the  down-falling  drops.  The  stormy  discord  was 
complete;  the  scene  most  impressive.  Peal  on  peal 
of  thunder  broke  in '  the  air,  like  exploding  rockets. 
Sharply  and  painfully  too,  did  the  blue  and  pale 
lightning  flash  across  the  eye,  threatening  a  general 
destruction. 

During  the  height  of  the  storm,  when  confusion  and 
uproar  prevailed  without,  and  silence  and  awe  reigned 
within  the  cabin,  unnoticed  by  others,  and  unconsciously 
to  herself,  the  light  form  of  Lucile  drew  near  to  the  side 
of  Walcott.  Around  him  she  hovered,  as  a  gale-threat 
ened  ship  will  hover  near  its  assured  haven.  It  was,  in 
part,  the  natural  instinct  of  weakness  taking  shelter  in 
the  shadow  of  strength.  It  operated  powerfully  upon 
both  the  girls  present ;  but  each  had  looked  in  different 
directions,  and  Marion  had  sought  out  her  father,  where 
now,  half  leaning  upon  his  arm  and  half  inclining  her  head 
upon  his  bosom,  she  was  endeavoring  with  closed  eyes 
and  uplifted  hands,  to  shut  out  the  dazzling  blaze  of  the 
lightning,  which  suddenly  became  more  frequent  and  more 
startling.  The  old  man,  with  his  long  white  hair  falling 
upon  his  shoulders,  and  his  high  pale  brow  lifted  to  the 
window,  looked  the  patriarch  and  the  hero  that  he  was. 
Quietude  and  repose,  were  even  then  the  characteristics 
of  his  appearance  and  hia  bearing ;  and  not  even  the  loud- 


192  SARATOGA. 

est  bursts  of  the  tempest  without,  seemed  to  disturb  hia 
eye,  or  to  vary  the  expression  of  his  face. 

Brigham,  who  at  first  had  eyed  the  coming  storm 
somewhat  observantly,  had  soon  manifested  his  accustomed 
coolness,  and  by  this  time  was  lying  down  on  a  bench  in 
one  corner  of  the  hut,  fast  lapsing  into  a  doze.  He  only 
muttered  with  a  yawn  that,  "  he  should  n't  wonder  if  we 
got  a  bit  of  hail  afore  the  shower  was  over,  as  the  air 
smelt  mighty  coolish." 

But  "Walcott  was  of  an  age  and  of  a  temperament  which 
inclined  him  to  take  more  interest  in  the  not  unusual,  but 
always  impressive  scene  which  was  passing.  He  had  taken 
his  station  near  the  door,  and  watched  with  attention  and 
even  with  pleasure  the  wild  war  of  the  elements  which 
raged  through  the  wilderness.  He  had  seen  large  limbs 
of  trees  torn  from  their  hold,  and  flung  at  a  distance  to 
the  earth.  He  had  seen  mighty  old  pines,  though  so 
strongly  rooted  as  to  be  ultimately  secure,  still  rock  upon 
their  foundations  before  the  sweeping  efflux  of  the  air, 
and  threaten  to  come  at  some  moment  with  a  vast  crash 
and  a  wide  ruin,  to  the  ground.  He  had  watched  the 
quick  scudding  clouds  overhead,  as  they  moved  like  flying 
artillery  through  the  sky,  discharging  their  mighty  ord 
nance,  and  with  loud  explosions  sending  their  chained 
shot  through  the  hearts  of  oaks,  and  cleaving  in  twain 
other  old  and  lofty  trees  which  had  escaped  the  lightnings 
of  five  hundred  years.  One  of  these  ruinous  bolts  at 
length  hurtled  over  an  enormous  pine  which  stood  within 
a  few  rods  of  the  cabin  door ;  and  the  dark  trunk  and 
lofty  crown  of  which  had  hitherto,  through  all  the  wrack, 
been  visible  to  the  inmates  of  the  hut,  like  a  beacon  or  a 
tower  of  strength. 


THE    STORM.  193 

It  was  just  as  Lucile  came  close  to  Walcott's  side  that  a 
bright  streak  of  light  sped  downward  upon  the  venerable 
tree ;  and  before  the  gleam  of  that  blinding  flash  had  left 
her  eyes,  with  a  deafening  explosion,  the  old  trunk  had 
received  its  death-stroke.  So  violent  and  sudden  was  the 
shock,  that  for  the  moment,  all  were  stunned.  The  next 
instant  a  more  appalling  danger  threatened  them ;  for  al 
most  instantaneously  with  the  flash  and  report,  did  Arthur 
and  Lucile  become  conscious  that  the  enormous  mass  was 
toppling  over  in  its  fall  toward  the  hut. 

There  was  no  time  for  thought ;  no  space  for  escape. 
With  a  sudden  scream  the  affrighted  girl  clung  to  the 
young  man  with  the  instinct  of  weakness,  and  ah  impulse 
of  affection,  while  a  deafening  crash  bore  down  upon  their 
place  of  shelter.  Then  again  followed  the  sound  of  patter 
ing  rain,  rushing  wind,  and  the  distant  muttering  of  thun 
der.  The  startled  occupants  of  the  cabin  awoke  from 
their  stupor,  as  if  expecting  to  find  themselves  in  the 
other  world.  Thank  heaven !  It  was  only  an  alarm. 
The  tufted  branches  of  the  tree  only  had  struck  the  build 
ing,  but  had  not  been  sufficiently  weighty  to  break  it 
down.  The  mighty  trunk  itself  had  fairly  cleared  it,  and 
so  they  were  saved.  It  now  lay  there  like  a  stricken  le 
viathan. 

The  peril  created  by  its  fall  had  been  so  sudden,  so 
inevitable,  and  so  overwhelming  that  those  who  were 
exposed  to  it  had  not,  so  to  speak,  had  time  to  become 
fully  alarmed  before  it  was  passed.  There,  indeed,  might 
Lave  been  seen  some  pale  cheeks  and  quivering  lips. 
Marion  even  fainted  at  the  sight  and  thought  of  the 
fearful  escape.  Brigham  had  risen  and  now  already 
stood  without  the  door  looking,  with  curious  eye,  at  the 
13 


194  SARATOGA. 

ruin  caused  by  the  storm,  or  the  "  shower,"  as  he  called 
it,  unheeding  the  rain  which  deluged  his  naked  head, 
and  the  wind  which  blew  his  hair  wildly  about  his  face. 

Gently  did  Walcott  unwind  from  his  neck  the  arms  of 
the  trembling  girl  who  had  so  suddenly  clung  to  him  in 
the  moment  of  peril.  It  was  even  a  few  seconds  before 
she  was  fully  conscious  of  what  she  had  done  ;  but  then, 
with  a  brow  blushing  scarlet,  and  almost  with  tears  of 
shame,  she  said,  in  a  low  tone : 

"  Forgive  me,  Mr.  Walcott;  I  have  been  so  frightened 
that  I  did  not  know  what  I  was  about." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  forgive,"  he  replied,  with  warmth. 
"  I  could  only  wish  that  the  danger  had  been  one  from 
which  my  presence  or  strength  could  have  shielded  you. 
It  gives  me  unspeakable  happiness  even  to  think  that  you 
look  to  me  for  protection." 

Fortunately,  Marion  was  unconscious  while  these  words 
were  exchanged,  and  until  after  most  of  the  agitation 
caused  by  the  alarming  incident  we  have  above  described 
had  passed  away.  She  might  otherwise,  perhaps,  have 
noticed  the  degree  of  emotion  displayed  by  both  Lucile 
and  her  affianced  lover,  and  her  woman's  wit  might  have 
enabled  her  to  discern  and  read  signs  of  growing  interest 
between  them,  which  might  have  proved  as  destructive  to 
her  hopes  and  alarming  to  her  heart  as  the  peril  of  the 
impending  tree ;  always  supposing  that  her  heart  partook 
of  that  deep  interest  in  the  subject,  which  her  actual 
relations  with  Walcott  would  seem  to  warrant  others  in 
believing. 

Upon  the  latter,  however,  at  that  time,  began  to  dawn 
a  faint  consciousness  of  the  true  state  of  his  feelings  ;  and 
that  another  was  usurping  that  place  in  his  thoughts  which 


THE    STORM.  195 

should  have  been  occupied  by  Marion  alone.  To  Lucile 
the  same  twilight  of  knowledge,  causing  her  at  once  pain 
and  pleasure,  began  also  to  appear.  The  glory  and  hap 
piness  thus  brightening  on  her  soul's  horizon,  were  still 
clouded  by  thoughts  that  her  new  affection  would  be  an 
involuntary  treachery  to  her  friend;  and  it  was  with 
embarrassment  and  almost  with  self-accusation  that  she 
withdrew  to  the  side  of  the  still  half  conscious  Marion. 
The  shock  of  the  thunderbolt  had  lifted  a  vail  from  her 
eyes.  All  these  things  had  passed  in  a  moment  of  time — 
so  rapidly,  indeed,  and  with  such  electrical  quickness,  that 
Lucile  even  assisted  at  the  restoration  of  the  swooning 
Marion. 

By  this  time  the  storm  began  sensibly  to  diminish  in 
violence.  The  heaviest  and  darkest  of  the  clouds  had 
rolled  off  to  the  eastward.  As  Brigham  predicted,  hail 
had  been  mingled  with  the  rain,  and  the  ground  was  now 
sown  with  it  as  if  with  crystals.  Rivulets  of  water  poured 
past  the  door  of  the  cabin.  On  all  sides  around  could  be 
heard  the  rush  of  similar  streams,  as,  in  full  chorus,  like 
hounds  in  chase,  they  speeded  on  their  way.  Soon  the 
wind  lulled,  the  sky  grew  brighter,  the  thunder  departed 
with  the  clouds,  rumbling  heavily  in  the  distance.  The 
little  rain  that  now  fell  came  in  pattering  drops.  The 
clouds  themselves  had  broken,  and  spaces  of  clear  sky, 
like  blue  water  amid  the  floes  and  icebergs  of  an  arctic 
sea,  gladdened  the  sight. 

The  burly  form  of  Brigham  was  seen  stalking  about  in 
the  open  air ;  and  thither  also  soon  went  Walcott  to  note 
the  ravages  made  by  the  storm.  A  quantity  of  wreck  waa 
strown  in  every  direction — broken  branches,  and,  now  and 
then,  fallen  trees.  Every  crevice  and  low  spot  of  ground 


196  SARATOGA. 

poured,  like  a  gutter,  with  the  escaping  water.  The  brook 
below  rushed  past  like  a  river.  It  nearly  filled  the  entire 
breadth  of  the  valley.  The  bushes  and  small  trees  near 
it  were  surrounded  by  water,  and  bent  before  the  power 
ful  current ;  while  a  little  gulf  separated  the  two  opposite 
slopes  of  the  swale.  But  nightfall  was  close  at  hand.  It 
was  not  until  just  as  the  sun  was  descending  behind  the 
Kayaderosseras  mountains  that  the  clouds  fully  lifted ; 
and  its  last  rays  were  permitted  to  spread,  like  a  golden 
mantle,  over  all  the  landscape,  and,  for  a  moment,  to  light 
up  the  receding  storm  with  its  beautiful  bow  of  promise. 
Anon,  all  this  effulgence  was  withdrawn.  Shadows  again 
crept  over  the  earth,  and  another  summer  night,  though 
the  day  had  closed  in  weeping,  came,  with  gentle  approach, 
softly  and  soothingly,  like  an  angel  of  mercy,  to  hush  the 
tired  world  to  repose. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

SANDY     BRIGHAM. 

As  the  evening  was  fresh,  Brigham  caused  a  fire  of 
pine  knots  to  be  lighted,  in  a  large  open  stone  fireplace, 
within  the  hut,  to  dispel  the  damps,  occasioned  by  the  re 
cent  storms,  while  its  blaze  should  shed  a  ruddy,  though 
flickering  and  uncertain  light  through  the  room.  The  in 
mates  of  the  cabin  were  now  all  gathered  there ;  and  the 
secure,  quiet,  and  home  appearance  of  the  place,  was  grate 
ful  to  them,  after  the  agitations  and  alarms  they  had  just 
experienced.  Through  the  small  eastern  windows,  the 
pale  moonlight  shone,  and  mingled  with  the  red  reflection 
of  the  fire.  The  sound  of  the  swollen  and  rushing  brook 
could  still  be  plainly  heard,  as  it  poured  its  unaccustomed 
volume  of  water  away  through  the  darkness. 

"How  long  is  it,  Brigham,"  asked  Colonel  Belden,  as 
all  sat  pensively  within  the  light,  listening  to  the  echoes 
which  resounded  from  the  neighboring  forest — "  how  long 
is  it  since  you  took  up  your  abode  in  this  place  ?" 

"  I've  been  here  only  since  last  year,"  answered  Brig- 
ham.  "  Arter  the  war,  things  did  n't  flourish  as  usual, 
down  there  in  Stillwater ;  and  so,  as  Gid.  Morgan  had  got 
tired  of  this  place,  and  gave  me  a  good  chance,  I  thought 
I'd  come  up  and  try  it.  I  like  it  all  the  better  too,  be- 


198  SARATOGA. 

cause  General  Schuyler  is  here,  more  or  less,  every  sum 
mer,  and  we  can  now  and  then  talk  over  old  times." 

"But,"  said  Colonel  Belden,  "  a  man  like  you  ought  to 
have  had  some  position,  or  some  notice  by  Congress  before 
this  time ;  and  it  seems  to  me,  if  the  case  had  been  pro 
perly  represented,  something  would  have  been  done." 

"  Likely  enough,  colonel,"  said  Brigham ;  "  but  there's 
so  many  chaps  arter  the  loaves  and  fishes,  that  I've  never 
thought  enough  of  my  desarts  to  jine  with  'em,  and  make 
the  trial." 

"How  so?"  asked  the  colonel;  "that  one  affair  near 
Fort  Edward,  in  visiting  Burgoyne's  camp,  was  enough 
to  have  got  you  a  thousand  acres  of  land,  at  the  least.  I 
mention  land,  because  Congress  is  so  poor  that  it  can  pay 
in  nothing  better." 

"I  have  often,"  said  Wai  cott,  interposing,  "heard  a 
rumor  of  that  circumstance,  and  should  much  like  to  hear 
the  particulars  of  it." 

"  Brigham,  I  dare  say,  will  have  no  objection  to  giving 
you  an  account  of  it,"  answered  Colonel  Belden. 

"  None  at  all,"  said  Brigham  ;  "and  if  you'd  like  to 
hear  how  it  was  done,  why,  this  was  the  way  of  it.  Ar 
ter  General  Schuyler  gave  up  command ;  old  Gates — ex 
cuse  me,  colonel ;  that's  the  way  we  called  him,  quite 
familiar,  in  those  days — old  Gates,  I  say,  as  a  new  hand 
at  the  bellows,  was  quite  put  to  it  to  know  what  the 
British  General  was  going  to  do  next.  At  that  time,  as 
you  must  know,  the  inemy's  army  lay  in  camp,  just  be 
yond  Fort  Edward,  where  they  was  trying  to  recruit  and 
refresh  a  little,  arter  crossing  the  SAvamp  from  Skenes- 
borough,  and  arter  the  cooling  their  courage  got  at  Ben- 
nington.  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  Gates  was  regularly 


SANDY    BRIGHAM.  199 

nonplushed.  He  lay  down  here  away  toward  Stillwatcr, 
and  did  n't  dare  to  stir  for  fear  of  goin'  wrong,  in  a  case 
where  mistakes  would  n't  answer.  But  the  blood  of  the 
country  was  up,  on  account  of  that  affair  of  poor  Jinny 
M'Crea,  as  you  recollect,  colonel?" 

"  You  mean  the  young  girl  who  was  murdered  by  the 
Indians,  when  on  her  way  to  Burgoyne's  camp  to  meet 
her  lover,  I  suppose?"  answered  Colonel  Belden. 

"Exactly,  her  I  mean,"  said  Brigham.  "Well,  the 
people  thought  that  it  was  all  owing  to  the  scalp  rewards 
offered  by  the  British ;  and  so,  they  was  all  detarmined 
on  revenge ;  and,  if  I  might  be  allowed  to  express  my 
opinion,  it  was  that,  as  much  as  any  thing  else,  that  gained 
the  battle  of  Saratoga.  But,  not  to  get  ahead  of  my 
story,  old  Gates  sends  to  the  committee  of  safety  of  Still- 
water,  and  wants  a  man  to  go  into  the  British  camp,  and 
find  out  what  was  in  the  wind.  It  so  happened  just  about 
them  days,  that  I  was  keeping  a  place  some  five  miles  or 
so,  this  side  Waterford,  on  the  North  River.  Don't  you 
remember  stoppin'  there  about  that  time,  on  the  winter 
afore,  one  cold  snowy  night,  colonel  ?" 

"  I  remember  it  well,"  answered  Colonel  Belden ;  "for 
you  had  to  haul  me  in  through  a  back  window,  in  order 
to  avoid  the  attention  of  some  English  spies  who  were  in 
the  public  room." 

"  Your  memory  ain't  none  the  worse  for  wear,  any  how, 
colonel,"  answered  Brigham. 

"  Well,  who  should  I  see  one  fine  morning,  riding  up 
to  my  door  but  a  sort  of  orderly,  who  gets  down  and  in 
quires  for  Mr.  Bridgeman. 

" '  That  ain't  quite  my  name,  friend,'  says  I,  '  but 
may  be  it 's  me  you  want,  for  all.' 


200  SARATOGA. 

'"Do  you  keep  this  here  tavern ?'  says  he. 

"  '  Yes,'  says  I,  '  but  it  ain't  a  tavern.  It's  a  hottel.' 
I  thought  I'd  come  a  little  of  the  French  on  him. 

"  '  Well,'  says  he,  dismounting,  in  a  cool  way,  '  tavern 
or  hottel,  it 's  all  the  same  to  me,  if  so  be  you  're  the  man. 
I  've  a  dispatch  from  the  Comity  of  Safety  at  Stillwater 
for  you.' 

"  So  he  hands  me  a  letter  in  which  they  wanted  me  to 
go  at  once  and  see  Gineral  Gates  without  delay,  on  public 
sarvice.  To  make  a  long  story  short,  I  started  for  the 
army  the  same  night,  and  when  I  went  in  to  the  old 
Gineral' s  tent : 

"  '  Is  your  name  Brigham?'  says  he. 

"  '  YP«S'  Rflva  T 

JLCSi     oaijo  -L. 

a  '  Can  you  go  to  Burgoyne's  camp,  across  the  river 
at  Fort  Edward,  and  bring  me  word  what's  a  goin'  on?' 
says  he. 

"  '  Yes,'  says  I,  '  and  glad  of  the  job.' 

"  '  When  can  you  start?'  says  he. 

"  '  Now,'  says  L 

"  '  And  when  can  you  get  back  ?'  says  he. 

"  '  That's  more  than  I  can  say,'  says  I,  thinking  to 
myself,  I  might  be  made  a  tassel  at  the  end  of  a  hemp 
cord,  or  a  target  for  a  file  of  men,  before  I  should  have 
the  pleasure  proposed. 

"  '  Then  you  know  the  risk  ?'  continued  he. 

"  '  Sartainly,'  says  I;  'but,  in  times  like  these,  every 
man  must  do  his  best;  and,  without  braggin',  I've  a 
notion  I  can  do  this  job  better  than  most,  if  it  must  be 
done.' 

"  '  It  must  be  done,'  he  answered.  '  At  this  time,  if 
any  accident  happens,  the  whole  country  to  New  York 


SANDY    BRIGHAM. 


be  open  to  pillage.  Remember  the  affair  of  Miss 
M'Crea.' 

"  '  Gineral,'  says  I,  '  you  needn't  mention  that  poor 
gal,  to  stir  me  up.  I  'd  go,  if  it  was  to  sarve  the  country  ; 
and  talkin'  of  the  cussed  Injuns  only  riles  me  so  I  ain't 
fit  for  the  job.' 

"  '  Well,'  says  the  general,  walking  about  very  oneasy, 
and  looking  thoughtful,  '  I  hate  to  risk  a  man  like  you, 
but  somebody  must  go,  who  is  acquainted  with  the  busi 
ness.  I  must  trust  entirely  to  your  discretion.  If  the 
English  army  breaks  through  my  lines,  our  poor  country 
is  lost.  Spare  no  pains,  my  good  sir,'  he  went  on  earnest 
like  ;  '  remember,  every  thing  depends  upon  committing 
no  blunder.  I  can  not  give  you  any  papers,  and  you 
must  pass  both  lines  as  best  you  can  ;  and  there  is  about 
as  much  danger  from  the  one  as  from  the  other.' 

11  Here  an  orderly  comes  in,  and  says  the  Green 
Mountain  Boys  would  be  down,  two  thousand  strong,  in 
four  days. 

"  '  Very  well,'  says  old  Gates  ;  and  giving  me  a  look, 
I  took  it  as  a  hint  to  leave. 

"  It  was  no  light  job,  in  them  days,  to  go  through  the 
first  part  of  the  task  I  had  before  me.  Lines  of  sentinels 
had  been  posted  on  all  the  common  ways  between  the  two 
armies.  So  I  had  to  make  a  wide  circuit  ;  and  I  came 
into  the  British  camp  as  a  fugitive,  having  managed  to 
get  pursued  by  a  lot  of  chaps,  who  took  me  as  a  scout 
of  the  inimy.  So  my  indorsements  was  good  in  my 
new  quarters.  Some  of  the  officers  knew  me;  and, 
after  no  great  trouble,  I  was  introduced  to  the  gineral 
himself. 

"  '  Eh  !  sir,'  says  he.  '  I  am  told,  my  good  man,  that 


202  S  A  11  A  T  0  G  A  . 

you  have  been  driven  out  of  the  country  on  account  of 
your  attachment  to  the  king's  cause.' 

"  Something  like  that,  your  honor,'  says  I.  '  In  fact,' 
says  I,  '  the  varmints  chased  me  to  the  very  pickets.' 

"  '  I  perceive,'  said  the  general,  '  that  you  are  a  native 
of  this  region,  and,  as  such,  may  be  very  useful  to  his 
majesty.' 

"'Yes,'  says  I,  'no  doubt  your  honor  is  right.  I 
might  be  so.' 

"  Well,'  says  he,  ' are  you  willing  to  try?' 

"  'Whatever  I  undertake,'  says  I,  'I  try  to  do  my 
best  in,  and  so  your  honor  will  find  it  in  the  end.' 

"  '  Does  any  body  know  this  man  ?'  says  Burgoyne,  sud 
denly  looking  around  at  the  assemblage  of  officers  collected 
in  the  marquee. 

'f '  I  know  him,'  says  one,  '  he  keeps  a  house  of  enter 
tainment  near  the  Mohawk  Fords.' 

"'I  know  him,'  says  another,  'he  hid  me  one  night 
from  a  gang  of  rebels  who  were  in  chase.' 

>  " '  And  I  know  him,'  says  a  third,  '  he  gave  me  a 
haunch  of  venison  three  weeks  ago,  when  we  liked  to  have 
starved  in  the  mash,  this  side  of  Skenesborough.' 

"  And  so  betwixt' em  all,  I  got  a  first  rate  recommend ; 
and  the  General  being  satisfied  on  that  head,  goes  to  cross- 
examine  me  as  to  what  I  knowed,  and  could  do,  useful  to 
him. 

" 'Bridgeman,'  says  he,  'for  I  think  that  is  your 
name?' 

"  '  No,'  says  I,  '  your  honor,  that  is  not  my  name,  but  • 
Brigham,  if  you  please,'  thinking  that  if  it  was  worth 
knowing  at  all,  it  was  worth  knowing  correctly. 


SANDY    BKIGHAM.  203 

"  'Well  then,  Brigham,'  says  he,  '  since  you  will  have 
it  so,  how  many  men  have  these  rebels  got  together  ?' 

"  '  Five  thousand  four  hundred  and  fifty  one,'  says  I. 

"  '  How  do  you  know  ?'  says  he. 

"  '  I  counted  'em,'  says  I. 

"  '  And  where  are  they,'  says  he. 

"  '  At  Bemis  Heights,'  says  I. 

"  'Where's  that?'  he  asks. 

"  '  Down  the  river  twelve  miles  or  there  away,'  says  I. 

"  <  On  which  side  ?' 

"'On  the  west' 

"  'And  what  are  they  going  to  do  next?'  asked  he  af 
ter  a  moment's  pause. 

"'They're  a  going  to  wait  till  they 've  got  together 
enough  to  drive  you  (excuse  me)  out  of  the  country,' 
says  I ;  '  and  then  they  '11  be  a  movin'  on  these  here  lines.' 

"  '  How  many  do  you  suppose  that  will  take  ?'  he  asked. 

"'About  seven  thousand,'  says  I,  'reckoning  in  the 
sharp  shooters.' 

"  When  I  made  this  answer,  I  noticed  him  a  smiling  at 
the  other  officers,  and  so  I  knowed  he  must  have  had  more 
than  that  number  of  men. 

"  'Well,  my  good  man,'  says  he,  again  taking  up  the 
talk  where  we  stopt,  '  can  you  tell  me  how  long  it  will  be 
before  these  seven  thousand  men  get  together  ?' 

" '  Sartainly,'  said  I,  reckoning  on  my  fingers  and 
speaking  slow.  '  As  many  on  'em  has  gone  to  Fort  Stan- 
wix,  and  won't  be  back  for  some  time,  and  as  the  principal 
help  is  expected  from  Vermont,  it  will  take  nigh  on  to  a 
month  before  they  're  all  in  working  order.' 

"Here  I  noticed  him  smiling  again  to  the  officers 
around  him ;  and  thinks  I  to  myself,  '  Old  feller,  though 


204  SARATOGA. 

your  're  mighty  close,  I  '11  get  the  better  on  you  yet  afore 
we  're  through.' 

"  '  How  long,'  says  he,  '  would  it  take  for  them  to  reach 
us?' 

"  Here  he  gives  another  knowing  look  about  him.  I 
thought  to  myself,  it  would  take  no  longer  for  him  to 
reach  them,  than  for  them  to  reach  him ;  so  I  says, 

" '  Perhaps,  two  days,  with  the  irregulars  and  militia 
they  've  got;  though  if  they  try  to  come  up  the  east  bank 
of  the  river,  it  may  be  two  days  longer  on  account  of  the 
state  of  the  country.' 

"  c  Then  the  west  bank  is  the  best  route  ?'  says  he. 

"  '  Sartain,'  says  I. 

"  You  know,  colonel,  that  if  he  had  kept  to  the  east 
side  of  the  river  he  would  have  had  almost  a  clean  sweep 
through  the  settlements,  to  opposite  Albany,  with  no  large 
streams  to  cross  like  the  outlets  of  the  Mohawk,  and  no 
good  ground  on  which  a  stand  could  be  made  against  him." 

"  Arteraxin'  these  questions,  the  gineral  walked  about 
for  a  while,  and  then  says,  suddenly  stopping, 

"  '  Do  you  know  the  country  well?' 

" '  As  well  as  you  know  what 's  in  this  tent,'  I  an 
swered. 

" '  And  who,'  says  he.  after  a  moment's  pause,  '  who 
requested  you  to  get  the  information  which  you  have 
given  me  about  the  rebel  army?'  .  ? 

"'Captain  Gracie,  says  I,  'of  his  Majesty's  31st 
regiment  of  infantry.' 

"  'Is  Captain  Gracie  present?'  asked  the  general,  look- 
in'  round. 

"'Yes,  sir,'  said  the  captain  himself,  stepping  for 
ward  ;  '  and  I  can  vouch  for  the  truth  of  much  this  man 


THE    SPY. 

says,  having  passed  over  the  ground  he  mentions.  Of 
his  fidelity  I  have  no  doubt,  as  he  once  hid  me  from  a 
pursuing  party  at  his  own  house.' 

"  'This  speaks  well  for  your  loyalty,  my  good  man,' 
then  said  the  general;  'and  for  the  services  you  have 
rendered,  and  the  risk  you  have  run,  I  hope  to  reward 
you.  Let  some  one  look  to  his  accommodation.' 

"  Here  I  was  dismissed,  and,  though  after  that  I 
seemed  to  be  moving  about  quite  free  in  the  camp,  yet, 
I  noticed,  that  under  the  pretense  of  providing  for  me,  I 
was  more  or  less  watched  all  the  while.  The  next  morn 
ing  I  was  again  called  up  for  re-examination,  and,  though 
many  knew  me,  as  I  said,  yet  it  was  clear  I  was  looked 
on  by  the  gineral  as  a  rather  doubtful  character.  Still 
he  could  n't  resist  the  evidence  I  got  on  every  side,  and, 
finally,  was  induced,  from  my  acquaintance  with  the 
country,  to  give  me  little  places  and  commissions  of  some 
consequence  and  trust. 

"I'll  say  to  you,  colonel,  and  to  Mr.  Walcott,  what  I 
wouldn't  like  to  say  abroad,  that,  on  the  whole,  I'm 
rather  ashamed  of  the  part  I  acted  at  that  time,  and. 
though  you  and  others,  who  are  knowin'  to  the  facts  and 
to  my  motives,  may  make  great  account  of  it,  yet  I 
never  could  bring  my  mind  to  ask  of  government  any  re 
ward  for  having  been  a  spy.  So,  colonel,  there  you  have 
the  true  reason  of  my  silence  on  the  subject." 

"  Why,  sir,  you  are  a  noble  fellow,  and  I  am  proud  to 
know  you,"  exclaimed  young  Walcott. 

"I  am  much  obleeged  to  you,  captain,"  answered 
Brigham,  much  gratified  at  this  evidence  of  esteem ;  "  but 
Btill  I  can't  feel  proud  when  I  am  a  tellin'  what  I  then 
did.  The  fact  is,  I  went  through  the  British  camp  under 


206  SARATOGA. 

favor  of  the  confidence  they  had  in  me,  and  found  out  all 
its  strength  and  weakness ;  and  from  several  interviews 
with  the  officers  and  the  commander-in-chief,  I  got  a 
pretty  correct  notion  of  what  was  agoin'  to  be  done. 
Hows'ever,  time  pressed,  and,  as  I  already  knowed  the 
intention  was  to  pass  down  the  right  bank  of  the  river, 
through  Stillwater,  and  that  pretty  soon,  I  began  to 
think  on  the  means  of  getting  away  agin.  This  was 
troublesome,  at  any  time.  At  night  it  was  even  more 
difficult  than  by  day;  and,  though  I  was  still  treated 
well,  and  seemed  to  be  on  a  good  footin',  I  knowed  well 
that  I  was  watched ;  and  any  blunder  in  the  dark,  or 
even  stirrin'  about  after  nightfall,  was  risky  business. 

"The  army  was  to  start  on  the  16th  of  September, 
and  this  was  the  night  of  the  14th.  There  was  just  time 
for  me,  and  I  made  up  my  mind,  by  hook  or  by  crook,  to 
get  away  the  next  morning.  So  I  sauntered  through  the 
camp,  till  meeting  my  old  acquaintance,  Captain  Gracie, 
I  said  to  him,  knowin'  he  would  be  busy  as  a  beaver : 

"'Captain,  wouldn't  you  like  to  take  a  small  shoot 
to-morrow  morning  ?  There 's  some  capital  partridges  in 
the  fly,  a  few  miles  back.' 

"  'I'd  like  it  well  enough,'  said  he,  ' but  we're  in  such 
a  devil  of  a  hubbub,  now  that  I  suspect  we  are  about 
moving  forward,  and  so  I've  no  time.' 

"  '  Well  now,'  says  I,  '  that 's  a  'tarnal  pity,  for  I  saw 
'  some  of  the  finest  birds  ye  ever  laid  eyes  on — so  fat  and 
plump.  Dare  say  the  general  would  be  delighted  to  see 
a  half  dozen  on  'em  on  his  own  table.' 

"  '  Don't  talk  that  way,  Brigham,'  he  says,  ' or  you'll 
make  me  run  away,  and  violate  orders,  for  the  sake  of  a 
blaze  or  so,  at  them.' 


SANDY    BRIGHAM.  ,      207 

"  'Well,'  says  I,  'if  you  can't  go,  you  can 't,  that's 
all.  But  that 's  no  reason  why  I  should  n't.  And  so  I'd 
be  obleeged  to  you  to  get  me  leave  to  go  out  arly  to 
morrow  ;  and  I'll  make  sure  of  as  fine  a  game  dinner  as 
ever  you  sat  down  to.' 

"  '  It 's  easy  enough,  I  dare  say,'  said  he,  '  to  get  what 
you  ask ;  but  I'm  damned  if  I  stir  a  peg  in  your  cause, 
unless  I  am  to  get  a  brace,  at  least,  of  the  birds,  as  my 
share  of  the  plunder.' 

"  '  Two  on  'em,  captain,'  says  I,  '  if  you  like ;  and  I'll 
give  you  my  word  that  if  you  don't  get  none,  the  general 
himself  won't.' 

"  So  upon  that,  he  goes  over  to  the  big  marquee,  and 
soon  comes  back  with  a  slip  of  paper,  with  the  order 
written  on  it,  as  I  supposed. 

"  You  may  be  sure  I  was  up  early  enough  next  morn 
ing.  The  daybreak  gun  had  n't  yet  rolled  off  its  smoke, 
afore  I  was  ready.  To  turn  aside  suspicion,  I  detarmined 
as  I  hinted,  to  take  the  back  track,  and  leave  the  camp 
on  the  north  side  toward  Skenesborough.  I  found  no 
difficulty  in  getting  away,  though  I  noticed  the  sentinel  I 
gave  the  paper  to,  arter  hesitating  a  little,  and  eyeing  me 
pretty  sharp,  called  another  chap  to  him,  and  sent  him 
off.  Then  he  falls  to  studying  the  paper  again,  and  arter 
a  few  minutes,  looking  up  to  where  he  had  sent  the  chap, 
he  signified  that  I  could  go. 

"  Slinging  the  gun  over  my  shoulder,  I  took  the  north 
road  boldly,  and  moved  off.  When  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  away,  on  looking  around,  which  I  did  pretty  often, 
I  can  tell  you,  I  noticed  two  men  on  horseback  leaving 
the  camp,  by  the  same  road  which  I  was  followin'.  They 
did  not  come  very  fast;  but  I  should  have  liked  it  bettor 


208  SARATOGA. 

if  they  had  not  come  at  all.  They  kept  me  in  sight,  and 
even  gained  upon  me  a  little.  It  looked  onpleasant.  I 
took  it  cool,  hows' ever,  till  I  come  to  a  little  piece  of 
woods,  beyond  which  the  road  made  a  sudden  turn.  Here 
I  quickened  my  step  ;  but  whew !  no  sooner  did  I  do  so, 
than  I  sees  them  fellows  put  to,  whip  and  spur,  as  if  for 
life.  I  had  nothing  now  to  do,  but  to  cut  a  way  for  my 
self.  I  rather  consated  something  had  gone  wrong  lately 
to  give  me  a  bad  name  in  the  camp.  Perhaps,  countin' 
the  men,  or  takin'  too  much  notice  of  the  cannon,  had 
been  disagreeable  to  'em.  Any  how,  away  I  run,  but 
saw  they  was  gaining  on  me  fast.  Something  must  be 
done,  thinks  I.  In  a  few  seconds  I  got  to  the  turn  in 
the  road.  Just  there,  a  small  creek  crossed  it,  and  was 
bridged  over  with  rough  logs.  The  banks  of  it  was  lined 
with  a  few  alder  bushes.  I  formed  my  plans  at  once. 

"  It  was  sartain  I  could  n't  keep  the  road  much  longer ; 
and  the  woods  was  far  too  open  to  be  a  good  hidin'  place. 
So  that  no  sooner  was  I  fairly  round  the  bend,  where  for 
a  minute  or  so,  I  would  be  out  of  the  sight  of  my  pur 
suers,  than  I  jumped  into  the  thicket,  got  to  the  creek, 
followed  it  up  behind  the  alders,  and  crawled  under  the 
low  log-bridge,  just  as  their  horses'  hoofs  came  thunderin' 
down  on  it ;  and  I  could  hear  them  shout  and  strike  away 
to  get  up  a  little  more  speed.  Their  going  ahead  that 
way,  was  a  sure  sign  they  had  not  seen  my  trick.  I  could 
hear  the  clattering  of  their  horses'  feet,  for  a  minute  or 
so,  as  they  swept  round  the  bend  in  the  road ;  and  then, 
seeming  to  haul  up  a  little,  one  on  'em  shouts  : 
"  1 1  say,  Tom,  where  the  devil  has  he  gone  to?' 
"  '  Eh  ?'  says  the  other.  '  Among  the  trees  on  the 
right,  I  suppose.  Do  you  ride  forward,  so  as  to  be  sure 


SANDY    BRIGHAM.  209 

he  ain't  hid  along  the  road  behind  some  stump  or  stone, 
while  I  beat  this  little  grove.  He  could  n't  have  gone  the 
other  side,  for  we  saw  him  plain  enough  go  round  the 
turn  here.' 

"  So  saying,  one  rides  forward,  and  the  other  turned  in 
among  the  trees,  and  soon  scoured  the  little  thicket 
through  and  through,  for  it  was  not  much  larger  than  an 
acre  in  size.  I  could  see  all  that  went  on.  At  the  same 
time,  I  was  not  quite  comfortable.  They  would  soon  be 
a  doubling  on  me.  When  I  was  n't  found  ahead,  they'd 
be  sure  I  was  behind.  So,  what  they  had  said  gave  me  a 
sudden  idea.  Could  n't  I  creep  entirely  through  the  hole 
formed  by  the  log- way,  and  come  out  t'other  side,  and  so 
get  into  the  woods  in  that  direction,  where  they  would  n't 
think  of  looking  for  me.  No  sooner  thought  on,  than 
tried.  After  a  little  squeezin',  and  a  great  deal  of  mud 
and  water,  I  got  through;  and  crawling  up  the  little 
brook  for  a  rod  or  so,  I  soon  got  off  far  enough  to  venture 
on  rising  again,  to  trust  to  my  heels.  Lucky  enough,  I 
did  so ;  for  afore  I  was  fairly  out  of  sight,  I  saw  them, 
like  bloodhounds,  making  for  the  bridge  itself.  The 
dodge  was  discovered ;  but  I  did  n't  stop  to  obsarve  'em 
any  longer,  making  off  as  fast  as  two  tolerable  legs  could 
carry  me. 

"Well,  the  long  and  the  short  on  it  was,  that  arter 
being  chased  pretty  sharp  for  half  the  day,  I  finally 
managed  to  throw  them  out.  Then  I  had  to  get  across 
the  river,  which  I  did  just  below  Glen's,  and  traveled 
through  a  thick  woods  for  near  twenty  miles,  before  reach 
ing  the  American  outposts.  There  again,  I  had  some 
trouble  in  getting  admitted  and  decently  treated.  But 
when,  at  last,  I  got  into  the  old  gineral's  quarters,  and 


210  SARATOGA. 

had  a  chance  to  talk  with  him  alone,  you  ought  to  have 
seen  how  tickled  the  old  chap  was.  Glad  to  see  me  safe, 
he  was,  that  was  something ;  but  then  the  news  I  brought 
seemed  to  settle  all  his  doubts,  and  he  capered  about  like 
a  boy. 

"I  don't  know  how  it  was;  but,  although  before  that, 
I  had  felt  like  a  sneak  in  the  job  I  was  at ;  yet  when  I 
saw  how  the  gineral  took  it,  and  how  much  account  he 
made  of  it,  I  began  to  think  I  might  have  desarved  some 
thing  for  my  pains,  arter  all.  And  so,  colonel,  there's 
the  whole  story.  There's  no  use  in  speakin'  of  the  fight 
which  took  place  a  few  days  arter.  Every  body  knows 
about  that,  and  none  better  than  yourself." 

Here  Brigham  paused  in  his  narrative,  during  which, 
some  time  had  elapsed.  The  hour  had  waxed  late,  and 
the  small  fire  in  the  cabin  had  smoldered  down  to  embers. 
The  two  girls  had  long  before  retired  to  the  inner  room, 
and  were  now  locked  in  the  deep  and  dreamless  slumber 
with  which  fatigue  ever  blesses  youthful  frames. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

JOB'S  SECOND  ATTEMPT  AT  VENGEANCE. 

THE  night  flowed  quietly  on.  The  storm  had  passed 
*way,  and  left  but  few  marks  of  its  violence  behind.  The 
fallen  tree,  the  scattered  branches,  the  shaken  fruit  and 
flower-bushes  were  still  visible  tokens  of  its  passage.  The 
swollen  brook  had  subsided,  and  a  low  ripple  had  taken 
the  place  of  the  loud  gurgle  of  its  late  full  flood.  The 
moon  still  shone,  wet  and  watery ;  though  its  beams  now 
came  in  long  silvery  pencils  from  the  western  sky. 

All  within  the  cabin,  at  length,  were  at  rest.  But  not 
so  without.  There,  the  wilderness  was  full  of  creatures 
broad  awake,  for  plunder  or  for  prey.  There  too,  strangely 
enough,  were  human  passions,  more  unappeasable  than 
animal  appetites;  and  unregulated  human  mind,  more 
cunning,  more  incalculable,  and  more  to  be  feared,  than 
the  fiercest  beast  of  prey. 

Indian  Joe  had  not  forgotten  the  injurious  language  of 
Walcott,  and  conceiving  himself  to  have  rendered  service, 
he  felt  a  violent  resentment  at  the  ungrateful  return  it 
met  with.  The  act  which  had  called  forth  his  rebuke, 
he  could  only  look  upon  as  a  meritorious  one.  So,  when 
he  had  left  Walcott's  presence,  he  had  brooded  over  his 
imaginary  injuries.  The  thirst  for  revenged  was  strong 
within  him,  and  could  be  quenched  only  by  blood.  Before 


212  SARATOGA. 

the  morrow's  sun  should  arise,  he  was  eager  to  impress 
upon  his  contemplated  victim  some  signal  marks  of  lids 
vengeance.  For  this  cause  he  had  arisen  in  the  darkness 
from  the  couch  where  he  lay  in  his  own  cabin,  and  made 
preparations  to  go  forth  on  his  fetal  errand. 

Slowly  and  moodily,  through  the  bushes,  and  the  trees 
still  dripping  with  the  waters  of  the  late  storm,  did  he 
find  his  way  back  to  the  log  house  of  Brigham. 

He  prowled  around  the  hut,  until  long  after  all  the  lights 
were  extinguished.  The  silence  that  prevailed,  seemed 
only  to  arouse  and  augment  his  ferocity.  He  thought  of 
the  peaceful,  self-satisfied  sleep  which  now  rested  upon  the 
spirit  of  Walcott,  and  then  he  thought  of  the  severity  and 
contempt  with  which  he  himself  had  been  treated.  And 
•why  should  a  pale  face,  he  thought,  thus  abuse  a  native 
of  the  woods  ?  What  right  had  a  being  who  ate  and  slept, 
who  walked  and  ran,  who  lived  and  thought,  like  himself, 
to  be  abusive  and  insolent  when  awake,  and  yet  to  be 
tranquil  as  infancy  and  innocence  when  asleep,  while  he 
himself  was  restless  with  passion,  and  thirsting  for  revenge? 

None  but  those  who  have  had  some  opportunity  of  wit 
nessing  it,  can  fully  believe  in  the  much  enduring  patience 
with  which  an  American  savage  will  wait  for  an  occasion 
to  retaliate  an  injury.  For  hours,  then,  did  poor  Joe  lie 
sullenly  concealed  in  the  bushes  near  at  hand,  so  situated 
as  to  be  able  to  command  a  view  of  almost  every  thing 
which  took  place  within  the  cabin.  He  saw  when  the  two 
girls,  overcome  by  weariness  had  withdrawn  from  the  outer 
room ;  and  watched  where  they  disposed  themselves  in  the 
further  apartment.  He  already  pondered  upon  the  means 
of  reaching  them,  should  they  become  necessary  to  the  at 
tainment  of  his  paramount  object. 


JOE'S    REVENGE.  213 

In  uncultivated  natures,  one  strong  passion  almost  al 
ways  has  such  a  preponderance,  that  when  aroused  it  over 
balances  and  bears  down  all  others ;  and  in  such  cases  no 
motives  can  be  administered  to  guide  the  conduct  or  attain 
an  end,  unless  addressed  to  this  one  absorbing  feeling. 
In  Indian  Joe,  such  was  now  the  case.  All  respect  for 
Colonel  Belden,  every  impulse  of  forbearance  which  his 
intimacy  with,  and  friendship  for  Brigham  and  M'Carty 
might  have  awakened,  and  every  feeling  of  generosity  and 
compassion  which  the  sex,  the  tender  age  and  great  beauty 
of  the  two  girls  might  have  inspired,  and  which  are  usu 
ally  felt  to  some  degree  by  all  men,  however  stolid  from 
barbarity,  or  hardened  by  vice,  were  utterly  forgotten,  or 
if  not  forgotten,  utterly  unheeded. 

It  was  long  before  he  saw  the  last  of  the  lingerers  fling 
himself  down  upon  a  pile  of  skins,  and  compose  himself 
as  if  for  sleep.  The  embers  of  the  fire  yet  gave  forth 
sufficient  light  to  enable  him  to  discern  through  the  win 
dow  the  relative  situations  of  the  inmates  of  the  cabin. 
The  door  had  been  closed  and  fastened  by  a  rude  wooden 
bar  drawn  across  it  on  the  inside ;  but  the  precaution  taken 
in  thus  closing  it  and  the  security  it  afforded  were  enough 
to  deter  the  unskilled  savage  from  any  plan  which  might 
require  him  to  gain  access  to  the  interior  through  it.  The 
windows,  also,  were  too  high  and  too  narrow,  to  afford  any 
means  of  getting  through,  even  if  the  operation  could  bo 
performed  without  noise.  There  seemed  to  be  difficulty  in 
every  plan.  At  one  moment  he  thought  of  setting  fire  to 
the  hut  itself,  and  thus  sacrificing  all.  But  more  stealthy, 
and  more  individual  revenge  accorded  better  with  his  sav 
age  nature.  In  a  conflagration,  moreover,  some  might 
escape,  and  why  not  Walcott.  the  youngest  and  most  act- 


214  SARATOGA. 

ive?  There  was  still  another  method  which  had  first 
occurred  to  him ;  and  which,  next  to  the  pleasure  of  im 
bruing  his  hands  in  blood,  and  giving  to  his  very  muscles 
their  share  of  the  luxury  of  murder,  he  preferred  over  all 
others ;  but  which,  nevertheless,  he  hesitated  to  adopt,  on 
account  of  the  noise  by  which  it  would  be  accompanied ; 
and  also,  on  account  of  the  great  likelihood  of  detection 
and  punishment.  His  method  was  none  other  than  shoot 
ing  his  victim  where  he  lay,  by  firing  through  the  window. 
The  thing  was  quite  practicable.  A  deliberate  aim  could 
be  taken,  and  death  would  be  almost  a  certain  result. 
Still,  for  a  long  while,  the  murderer  hesitated.  Like  a 
panther  in  view  of  its  prey,  he  still  moved  many  times 
around  the  cabin.  In  the  consciousness  of  possessing  the 
power  of  complete  revenge,  and  in  the  contemplation  of 
the  object  of  it,  there  is  a  species  of  fascination,  as  intense 
and  painful  as  the  fascination  of  fear.  The  thoughts  of 
the  savage,  meanwhile,  were  all  intent  upon  his  purpose. 
At  length  he  made  up  his  mind  to  risk  all,  and  adopt  the 
only  method  of  complete  retribution  which  had  seemed  to 
him  feasible.  He  placed  himself  again  by  the  window 
which  commanded  a  view  of  the  position  where  Walcott 
lay.  The  carefully  loaded  gun  was  slowly  and  gently 
brought  to  its  position. 

Inside  of  the  building,  all  was  silent  save  the  loud 
breathing  of  the  sleepers.  Could  they  even  have  dreamed 
of  the  danger  which  lurked  so  near  them,  and  threatened 
so  soon  to  burst  upon  them,  how  suddenly  would  sleep 
have  left  their  eyelids,  and  clamor  and  alarm  have  taken 
the  place  of  quietude  and  repose  ! 

The  Indian  had  brought  his  weapon  full  to  its  range, 
and  was  feasting  his  cruel  eyes,  for  a  moment,  with  the 


JOE'S    REVENGE.  215 

aight  of  his  enemy,  so  completely  in  his  power,  when  he 
felt  his  arm  lightly  touched,  and  turning  his  head  quickly, 
he  saw  Jacob  standing  close  behind  him.  The  gun  drop 
ped  from  his  hold.  A  superstitious  fear  went  through 
him,  sharp  and  painful,  like  an  electrical  shock;  and 
though  his  limbs  were  almost  powerless  from  terror, 
instinct  induced  him  to  make  a  sudden  leap  on  one  side, 
to  escape  from  the  gripe  which  Jacob  seemed  inclined  to 
fasten  on  him. 

The  effort  was  vain,  for  barely  had  he  stirred  ere  he 
felt  himself  wrapped  around  by  the  brawny  arms  of  the 
maniac.  He  was  as  helpless  as  a  deer  when  caught  in 
the  slimy  folds  of  a  boa  constrictor;  and  he  heard  the 
low  chuckle  of  his  captor  as  he  felt  himself  borne  rapidly 
away. 

Jacob,  as  well  as  the  savage,  had  felt  an  interest  in  one 
of  the  occupants  of  the  hut.  He  had  not  forgotten  the 
beautiful  young  prisoner  who  had  been  rescued  from  him 
in  the  cavern.  With  a  confused,  but  pertinacious  notion 
that  she  had,  in  some  way,  become  his  property,  or  was 
to  be  his  wife  and  the  companion  of  his  solitary  haunts, 
he  had  not,  for  a  single  instant,  abandoned  his  purpose  in 
respect  to  her,  even  when  driven  from  it.  At  a  distance 
he  had  followed  the  departing  intruders  and  had  marked 
all  their  subsequent  movements.  He  had  even  closely 
observed  where  Lucile  was  bestowed  for  the  night,  with 
some  notion  of  attempting  a  re-capture.  It  was  while 
engaged,  in  his  reconnoissances  that  he  had  been  fired  at 
and  slightly  wounded  by  Joe,  as  the  reader  is  already 
advised.  4  It  was  also  during  this  prowling  at  night  that, 
more  wary  than  the  Indian,  he  had  discovered  that  more 
than  himself  were  seeking  some  purpose  there.  In  his 


216  SARATOGA. 

mental  confusion  he  conceived  that  whoever  it  was  he 
must  be  in  pursuit  of  the  same  object  as  himself.  In 
thwarting  him,  therefore,  he  would  be  defeating  a  rival ; 
and  in  destroying  him  he  would  only  be  gratifying  one 
of  the  instincts  of  his  peculiar  type  of  mental  aberra 
tion. 

From  the  moment  when  these  ideas  occurred  to  him 
his  attention  became  fixed  upon  the  conduct  and  actions 
of  his  supposed  competitor.  He  followed  him  like  a 
shadow,  as  silent  and  as  inseperable.  Up  to  the  very 
instant  when  Joe  was  about  to  fire,  he  had  refrained  from 
touching  him,  and  he  might  not  have  done  so  even  then, 
but  for  the  vague  idea  that  the  shot  was  designed  against, 
or  might  injure  Lucile.  Even  after  he  had  made  the 
other  sensible  of  his  presence,  and  had  caught  him  in  his 
arms,  he  had  still,  with  almost  unaccountable  forbearance 
and  prudence,  refrained  from  making  any  noise  which 
might  disturb  the  inmates  of  the  cabin.  As  for  the  Indian, 
he  was  in  such  agony  of  superstitious  apprehension,  that 
he  could  not  think  of  any  devices  to  escape ;  and  it  waa 
not  in  his  nature  to  cry  out,  or  call  for  help.  f  So  the 
seizure  took  place  almost  in  silence.  4 

Those  within  the  building  slept  on,  as  if  nothjng  but 
the  summer  night  wind  moved  around  them ;  and  as  if 
the  moonbeams  lighted  up  nothing  but  the  vast4  green, 
slumbering  and  deserted  wilderness.  No  thought  of 
danger  disturbed  their  rest,  and  they  reaped  the  grateful 
reward  of  exertion  and  fatigue.  All  the  operations  of 
nature  seem  to  be  accompanied  or  followed  by  their  ap 
propriate  reactions  or  compensations.  So,  a  great  danger 
to  one  of  those  sleepers  had  come  and  gone,,  w^iout  his 
knowledge.  How  often  in  life,  must  the  same  thing 


JOE'S    REVENGE.  217 

happen  to  us  all!  Who  can  know  the  invisible  perils 
which  hover  in  the  air,  and  threaten  to  fall  upon  us  at 
every  step  we  take  through  the  world!  How  many 
thousands  are  the  causes  which  may  either  utterly  destroy 
us,  or  do  us  injuries  perhaps  more  unendurable  than 
death !  A  careful  and  protecting  hand  must  always 
shield  us  during  sleep ;  and  an  ever  overlooking  providence 
must  constantly  guide  us  through  the  blind  and  danger 
ous  ways  of  life,  until  the  day  of  final  earthly  destiny  be 
come.  How  few  reflect  upon  this,  and  how  much  smaller 
the  number  of  those  who  feel  grateful  for  what  are  called 
the  ordinary,  but  what  are  in  reality,  the  inestimable 
blessings  of  life  !  In  the  vast  machinery  of  organization 
and  law  by  which  we  are  surrounded  in  the  world,  the 
least  derangement  of  one  of  its  complicated  parts,  may 
crush  ourselves  or  our  hopes;  may,  by  removing  our 
friends,  leave  us  alone  and  without  sympathy  on  earth,  or 
hasten  us  prematurely  from  it.  Sickness  may  possess  our 
bodies,  poverty  and  disaster  reign  in  our  affairs,  disgrace 
and  misconstruction  attach  to  our  names,  and  dwell  upon 
our  memories ;  yet,  when  none  of  these  things  happen,  we 
take  the  exemption  as  a  part  of  our  due,  we  give  no 
thought  to  our  unworthiness,  and  we  render  up  no  grate 
ful  tribute  for  the  unearned  happiness  we  enjoy.  On  the 
contrary,  all,  even  the  most  favored,  are  disposed  to  mur 
mur  at  their  lot.  Some  unsatisfied  ambition,  some 
unfulfilled  hope,  some  ungratified  desire,  is  still  the  cause 
or  the  pretext,  of  complaints  against  fortune  or  against 
providence. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

THE    MORNING. 

WHEN  Brigham  went  out  of  the  hut  early  the  next 
morning,  he  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  find,  lying  upjn 
the  ground  beneath  one  of  the  windows,  the  gun  which 
Joe  had  dropped  when  seized  by  the  maniac.  The  wea 
pon,  of  course,  was  still  loaded,  and  the  lock  was  drawn 
back,  as  if  ready  to  be  snapped  on  the  instant.  The 
powder  in  the  pan  had  fallen  out ;  and  the  menacing  flint, 
*ike  the  tooth  of  a  dead  wolf,  now  threatened  in  vain. 

There  were,  also,  on  the  ground  where  the  weapon  was 
oicked  up,  marks  of  footsteps ;  and  Brigham  even  thought 
that  he  could  discover  in  some  of  them,  resemblances  to 
the  track  of  Jacob,  which  he  had  lately  had  occasion  to 
follow  up  so  closely,  and  to  study  so  much.  The  gun 
itself  he  knew  belonged  to  Joe;  but  why  it  should  be 
found  where  it  was,  seemed  mysterious.  He  soon  called 
M'Carty  to  consult  him  upon  the  case,  and  to  hold  a 
council  of  advisement  and  inquiry.  When  the  latter  came 
up,  Brigham  said  to  him — 

"M'Carty,  here's  a  tarnal  strange  affair.  I  found 
Joe's  gun  lying  under  this  window  all  loaded  and  cocked. 
Just  look  at  this  'ere  trail,  and  see  what  you  can  make 
of  it." 

M'Carty  did  as  requested,  and  after  having  terminated 


THE    MORNING.  219 

that  task,  he  also  examined  the  window  itself,  looking 
through  it,  into  the  cabin. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  said  he,  "  whereabouts  Walcott 
lay  last  night  ?" 

"  Sartain,"  said  Brigham,  "  he  was  over  there  just 
opposite  us.  But  why  ax  such  an  onmeaning  question  as 
that,  Jim?" 

Jim  here  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  as  he  sometimes 
did  when  in  thought,  while  he  walked  to  and  fro  for  a 
moment,  whistling  "Yankee  Doodle,"  in  a  solemn  sort  of 
manner,  but  winding  up  at  last  with  a  flourish. 

'"T ain't  onmeaning  at  all,"  said  he;  "but  I've  got 
something  of  a  guess  as  to  how  the  thing  got  here.  But 
why  it  was  left  is  a  puzzler." 

"  Well,  how  did  it  get  here  then,  if  you  know?"  asked 
Brigham. 

"  P'raps  you  did  n't  hear  of  the  little  row  the  captain 
had  with  Joe,  yesterday  afternoon,  about  that  shootin' 
business?"  suggested  M'Carty. 

"Yes,  I  heard  something  about  it,  but  didn't  suppose 
it  was  any  thing  serious." 

"  Well,  may  be  it  was  n't,"  said  M'Carty ;  "  but  when 
Joe  left,  he  had  on  a  look  I  did  n't  like.  I've  knowed 
the  critter  a  long  time ;  and  I  told  the  captain  to  look  out 
for  himself." 

"  Then  you  think  Joe  came  here  to  get  a  crack  at  Mr. 
Walcott  through  the  window,  do  you?"  said  Brigham; 
"the  murdering  thief!  If  I  thought  it  was  true,  I'd 
hang  him  to  the  next  saplin'  to  learn  him  not  to  come 
sneakin'  about  my  house.  But  then  how  do  you  account 
for  his  guu  being  loft  in  this  odd  way  ?  The  lock  is  open, 
and  the  priinin'  is  all  gone." 


220  SARATOGA. 

"  May  be  you'd  find  that  last  upon  the  ground,  by  look 
ing,"  said  Jim. 

The  ground  was  accordingly  examined  where  the  gun 
had  fallen ;  and,  sure  enough,  faint  traces  of  the  powder 
were  to  be  seen,  though  some  of  it  had  become  moist,  and 
mingled  with  the  earth ;  and  the  lighter  portions  of  it  had 
been  blown  away. 

"Don't  it  look  mightily  as  if  the  critter  had  dropped 
the  wepon  just  as  he  was  goin'  to  shoot?"  asked  Jim. 

"  Yes ;  and  I  think  I  know  what  scared  the  vicious 
devil  away.  Look  at  this,  and  this,  and  this,"  said  Brig- 
ham,  pointing  to  where  he  had  discovered  the  successive 
impressions  made  by  the  lunatic's  feet,  as  he  had  started 
away  with  his  burden,  the  footmarks  being  mor»>  distinct 
than  usual  from  the  weight  which  he  had  carried. 

M'Carty  looked  at  these  traces,  as  they  were  pointed 
out,  and  he  at  once  acquired  the  same  conception  of  the 
case  as  that  which  had  already  struck  Brigham. 

At  this  moment,  Walcott  approached  the  two  men,  and 
without  delay  they  stated  to  him  the  discovery  they  had 
made,  and  the  construction  they  put  upon  it. 

"  I  telled  ye,  captain,  how  it  would  be,  when  you  druv 
the  poor  devil  off  yesterday,"  said  M'Carty. 

"Well,  it  seems  no  great  harm  has  been  done  yet," 
was  the  reply;  "for,  according  to  your  own  story,  he  is 
more  likely  to  be  in  danger  himself  from  Jacob,  than  I 
am  from  him." 

"That's  true,"  said  M'Carty;  "and  as  we've  a  mind 
to  hunt  up  the  crazy  fellow  at  any  rate,  it  will  come  in 
our  way  to  look  arter  poor  Joe,  though,  may  be.  he's 
swung  to  a  saplin',  or  pitched  down  some  hole  afore 
this." 


THE    MORNING.  221 

P~om  the  cabin  now  came  forth,  side  by  side,  the  two 
girls,  who,  though  they  had  spent  the  night  together,  had 
passed  through  very  different  kinds  of  repose.  Exhaustion 
had  done  its  work  upon  the  frame  of  Marion ;  but  sleep 
had  also  worked  its  full  restoration.  She  had  risen  with 
the  freshness  of  the  meadow  lily ;  and  she  came  forth 
with  joy  in  her  heart,  and  health  beaming  from  her  eye. 
Her  companion  looked  jaded  and  weary.  Her  cheek  could 
hardly  be  said  to  be  pale,  for  in  its  center  was  a  crimson 
flush ;  but  her  eyes  wore  a  look  of  sleeplessness ;  and  it 
was  easy  to  discover  that  night  had  not  to  her  brought  its 
usual  balm.  Nevertheless,  her  countenance  did  not  fail 
to  light  up  with  pleasure  at  the  sight  of  the  charming 
scene  which  hailed  her  as  she  issued  from  the  cabin. 

The  sun  had  just  surmounted  the  crest  of  the  thick 
forest ;  and  its  rays  poured  down,  like  a  golden  cascade, 
upon  the  spot  where  Walcott  and  the  other  men  were 
standing.  Youth  and  morning  must  ever  possess  strong 
sympathies ;  and  their  full  force  was  felt  by  Lucile,  as 
she  stepped  forth  by  the  side  of  her  friend,  and  approached 
the  place  where  the  young  man  stood,  to  exchange  with 
him,  the  morning  salutations.  The  color  that  mantled  in 
her  cheek  was  deeper  than  any  summer  morning,  however 
glorious,  is  apt  to  call  forth.  Feelings  of  various  kinds 
were  busy  within,  and  sent  the  warm  blood,  like  crimson 
signals,  to  her  glowing  face.  She  was  oppressed  by  various 
and  almost  contradictory  feelings.  She  remembered  with 
something  like  shame,  how  she  had  clung  to  Walcott  the 
day  before ;  and  yet  how  could  she  assume  a  cold  and 
distant  demeanor  toward  one  who  had  so  strong  claim  to 
gratitude.  She  was  indeed  but  half  conscious  of  the 
warmer  feeling  that  was  springing  up  in  her  heart  toward 


222  SARATOGA. 

the  betrothed  of  her  friend ;  yet  there  was  a  vague  accu 
sation  from  the  inward  monitor  that  she  would  be  guilty 
of  treachery  toward  that  friend  who  leaned  so  trustingly 
on  her  arm,  if  she  gave  scope  to  the  emotions  of  grati 
tude  which  she  felt  to  be  his  due.  And  yet  how  could 
she  greet,  as  a  mere  acquaintance,  one  who  had  done 
her  so  great  a  service  ?  Would  he  not  have  a  right  to 
despise  her  as  cold  and  ungrateful  ?  Might  she  not  even 
wound  the  feelings  of  one  to  whom  she  owed  more  than 
life? 

But  description  moves  slow,  while  time  s&id  events  are 
flying  forward.  Thus,  while  we  have  been  dwelling  upon 
the  scene  before  us  as  if  it  was  a  still  picture,  that 
scene  itself,  like  a  moving  panorama,  has  been  steadily 
changing. 

"So  Mr.  Arthur!"  exclaimed  Marion,  after  a  little 
pause,  "haven't  you  a  word  to  say  to  us  this  morn- 
ing?" 

Arthur  had,  in  fact,  like  ourselves,  been  heedless 
of  the  lapse  of  time.  He  was  now  startled  from  his 
reverie. 

"  I  was  only  thinking,"  said  he,  "how  well  you  two 
look  after  your  sleep." 

"  Now  you  were  thinking  of  no  such  thing,"  she  said, 
"  for  if  you  had  taken  the  trouble  to  look  you  would  have 
seen  that  Lucile  here  does  not  look  well  at  all.  Poor 
little  thing!"  she  continued,  gently  kissing  her,  "she 
looks  as  if  she  had  had  no  rest  at  all.  It 's  that  frightful 
Jacob,  I  suppose,  still  disturbing  her  imagination." 

What  we  see  is  not  always  that  which  meets  the  bodily 
eye.  The  mind  makes  pictures  upon  the  mind  as  well  as 
the  mind  upon  the  eye. 


THE    MORNING.  223 

Arthur,  for  the  first  time,  now  saw  that  what  Marion 
said  was  true.  Approaching  then,  he  extended  his  hand 
to  Lucile,  and  began  to  make  inquiry  as  to  the  cause  of 
her  obvious  sleeplessness  or  illness. 

"  P'raps  she  heard  the  critter  about  the  hut  during  the 
night,"  said  Brigham,  coming  up,  having  heard  the  in 
quiries  of  Walcott. 

"You  do  not  surely  mean  to  say,"  asked  Lucile, 
quickly,  "  that  he  really  was  here  during  the  night  ?" 

"Fact,  miss,"  answered  Brigham;  "but  never  fear,, 
for  he  could  do  no  mischief  with  such  chaps  as  Arthur 
there,  and  the  rest  on  us  at  hand.  But  it  seems,  he  was 
not  the  only  one  neither,  for  Joe  must  have  been  hanging 
about  as  well  as  he." 

"  How  so  ?"  asked  Colonel  Belden,  who  had  now  joined 
the  group. 

"  Well,  it 's  mighty  curious,  colonel :  but  we  found 
Joe's  gun  just  under  the  window  there,  and  he  and  Jacob 
must  have  had  something  of  a  scuffle  together,  judging 
from  appearances.  Hows'ever,  no  harm's  done,  so  far 
as  we  know,  except  that  Joe  's  gone,  and  that  may  not  be 
much  harm  neither,  the  vicious  varmint.  A  whole  red 
skin  is  bad  enough  unless  you  get  on  the  right  side  of 
him,  and  then  he'll  go  through  fire  and  water  for  you. 
But  you  never  know  where  to  take  these  half-breeds." 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  Joe,  all  at  once?" 
asked  the  colonel.  "He  was  of  your  party  yesterday, 
and  behaved  himself  very  well,  and  yet  you  now  seem 
irritated  against  him?" 

"  I  don't  exactly  know,"  replied  Brigham,  "  what  the 
particular  pint  is,  but  he  and  Mr.  Walcott  had  a  bit  of  a 
quarrel  yesterday,  and  I  conclude  that  he  meant  to  bo 


224  SARATOGA. 

I 

ugly.     If  I  should  catch  the  critter  sneaking  around  my 

primeses  again  with  a  gun  arter  dark,  I'd  larn  him  !  He 
ought  to  be  «hoked  ! — if  Jake  ain't  done  that  much  for 
him  afore  this  time.  I'll  flog  the  Indian  out  of  him,  if 
ever  I  get  hold  on  him  again  !" 

Luckily  for  the  young  ladies  they  understood  but  im 
perfectly  the  nature  of  the  new  darfger  which,  during  the 
night,  had  threatened  them,  or,  at  all  events  had  hung 
over  one  in  whom  they  both  felt  a  deep  interest.  For 
the  present  nothing  more  was  said  upon  the  subject. 

There  was,  however,  among  the  men,  some  conversation 
as  to  what  could  have  brought  back  the  lunatic ;  but  they 
had  not  much  difficulty  in  attributing  his  visit  to  its  true 
cause.  They,  therefore,  concluded,  reasonably  enough, 
that  the  same  inducement  might  bring  him  there  again. 

Meanwhile,  what  was  to  be  done  in  reference  to  Joe  ? 
Their  theory  as  to  his  late  presence,  and  as  to  what  had 
become  of  him,  was,  after  all,  a  mere  hypothesis ;  and  he 
might  still  be  in  his  own  wigwam  or,  possibly,  quietly 
cultivating  his  little  patch  of  Indian  corn — an  occupation 
for  which  his  mixed  blood  was  supposed  to  have  given  him 
a  little  taste.  It  was  determined  first  of  all,  that  some 
one  should  be  sent  thither  to  ascertain  if  such  was  the 
fact. 

While  the  morning  meal  was  in  the  course  of  prepara 
tion,  therefore,  M'  Carty  went  up  to  the  neighboring  ham 
let  of  Indian  huts ;  and  having  informed  Catfoot  of  the 
state  of  affairs,  engaged  his  services  in  ascertaining  the 
presence  or  absence  of  Joe. 

"  Cap  'n  speak  big  to  Joe,  eh  ?"  asked  the  chief,  when 
M'Carty  had  finished  his  story. 

"  Why,  I  must  say,"  answered  M'  Carty,  apologetically 


THE    MOBNING.  225 

"  that  he  was  a  little  over  hasty  with  him ;  but  he  meant 
no  harm ;  and  to  my  notion,  it  did  n't  justify  Joe  in  going 
to  shoot  him  arterward. 

"  Joe  shoot  him,"  said  Catfoot,  coolly. 

"  But  he  had  n't  ought  to  shoot  him,  just  for  a  little 
talking  to.  That  ain  't  law  nor  gospel.  Why  the  colonel 
talks  worse  than  that  to  me  sometimes." 

"  Joe  shoot  him — good,"  replied  the  Indian. 

"  I  don 't  say  but  he  may  be  right  to  feel  riled,  Cat- 
foot,"  said  M'Carty,  "but  murder  is  quite  another  thing. 
It 's  takin'  the  life  of  a  fellow  creature,  you  see.  But 
the  captain  is  now  agreeable  to  make  it  all  right,  and  any 
how,  wants  to  get  Joe  out  of  the  grip  of  that  cussed  cat 
amount,  wild  Jake,  who,  he  consates,  has  got  hold  on  him. 
So  if  you  've  a  mind  to  help  a  friend,  and  see  the  captain 
do  the  handsome  thing,  you  can  jine  us  again  in  the 
sarch." 

"  Good,"  said  Catfoot. 

Here  M'Carty  shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand  to  seal 
the  compact,  and  departed  on  his  return.  As  he  was 
moving  away,  the  Indian  watched  him  for  a  while,  his 
eye  lighted  up  with  an  expression  which  was  almost  hu 
mor,  while  a  half  smile  for  a  moment  lingered  on  his  usu 
ally  staid  and  saturnine  face. 

"He  good — big  fool,"  he  muttered  to  himself ;  "Joe 
right — may  be  cap  'n  right  too — go  see." 

Upon  this  he  rose  up  and  started  toward  Joe's  clearing, 
which,  as  we  have  already  observed,  was  nearly  a  mile 
distant,  and  long  before  the  inmates  of  Brigham's  cabin 
had  finished  their  breakfast,  he  had  performed  his  errand 
and  returned. 

As  they  got  through  with  their  preparations  for  start- 
15  ' 


226  SARATOGA. 

ing  and  sallied  forth,  they  found  him  seated  near  the  Rock 
Spring,  as  grave  and  silent  as  if  he  had  not  been  upon  a 
mission,  or  brought  back  news. 

Walcott  himself  went  first  down  to  meet  him. 

"Catfoot,"  said  he,  as  he  approached,  "I  am  sorry 
Joe  should  have  got  offended  at  what  I  said  yesterday-; 
and  am  more  sorry  still,  if  any  thing  has  happened  to 
him.  Did  you  find  him  at  home?" 

The  Indian  shook  his  head,  seeming  to  consider  it 
unnecessary  to  waste  words  upon  a  mere  negative. 

"  Then  we  must  make  search  for  him,"  said  the  young 
man.  "  This  crazy  man  must  be  found  and  secured ;  and 
in  looking  for  one,  we  can  look  for  both.  Are  you  willing 
to  join  us  again  ?" 

An  affirmative  nod  was  the  reply. 

"And  I  hope,  my  friend,"  continued  Walcott,  "that 
a  hasty  word  will  never  make  enemies  of  us.  Judge  me 
more  by  what  I  do,  than  what  I  say." 

"  Good,"  said  the  savage,  appearing  to  appreciate  the 
apology  which  the  other  was  indirectly  making  for  his 
haste.  "  Joe  not  know  dat — tell  him,"  continued  the  In 
dian,  after  a  pause. 

The  two  now  went  up  the  bank,  where  they  found 
M'Carty  and  Brigham. 

"I  guess,  captain,"  said  M'Carty,  "that  one  onus 
had  better  stay  about  here  in  case  of  accident.  It  would 
not  do  to  leave  the  colonel  here  alone  with  the  young 
women." 

"True,  M'Carty,"  said  Walcott,  "and  I  think  Brig- 
ham  would  be  the  best,  and  make  it  the  safest.  Brigham, 
I  suppose  that  you  would  prefer  being  active  with  us.  but 


THE    MORNING.  227 

you  know  that  exactly  here  is  the  spot  where  most  danger 
is  to  be  apprehended." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Brigham,  "  I  'm  agreeable ;  and 
I  'm  sure  I  like  the  colonel's  society  well  enough  to  keep 
him  company,  always  providing  it's  the  best  plan.  Cat- 
foot  and  Jim  there,  will  most  likely  answer  your  purpose, 
unless  Joe  and  the  crazy  man  should  patch  up  a  treaty, 
and  make  war  on  jint  account." 

Here  Brigham  chuckled  at  his  own  conceit. 

"There's  not  much  risk  of  that,  I  fancy,"  answered 
Walcott;  "but,  above  all  things,  you,  for  one,  are  the 
man  to  stay,  and  M'Carty  may  do  the  same  if  he  likes. 
Catfoot  and  myself  will  be  sufficient  for  the  search." 

"I'm  blessed  if  I  do,  though,"  replied  M'Carty,  "un 
less  downright  ordered.  I've  had  bad  luck  enough, 
standing  sentry  in  this  here  business ;  and  I  've  no  notion 
trying  it  a  third  time." 

"You  can  go,  of  course,  if  you  like,"  said  Walcott, 
"  and  it  will  be  one  more  chance  of  success ;  though  Cat- 
foot  here  has  a  scent  as  keen  as  that  of  a  hound,  and  with 
his  help  I  have  little  doubt  of  soon  getting  on  the  trail." 

"  Now  you  are  speaking  of  a  hound,  Mr.  Arthur," 
said  M'Carty,  "  I  wonder  what  has  become  of  the  critter 
we  brought  with  us.  Have  you  seen  him  anywhere 
about,  Miss  Lucile?  for  I  don't  remember  seein'  him  since 
the  first  morning,  when  he  led  the  hunt  arter  the  colonel." 

"Sure  enough,  what  has  become  of  him?"  was  now 
the  general  inquiry. 

No  one  had  seen  him. 

Lucile  felt  some  concern  at  the  discovery,  for  the  dog 
was  a  particular  favorite  of  hers.  The  events  of  the  last 
few  days  had  been  so  remarkable,  that  they  had  driven 


228  SARATOGA. 

from  her  mind  all  thoughts  of  her  poor  four-footed  fol 
lower  ;  but  now  came  an  unpleasant  doubt,  whether  or  not 
the  faithful  beast  was  killed  or  lost. 

But  while  so  much  was  pending,  there  was  no  time  to 
indulge  in  surmises  as  to  the  fate  of  a  dog. 

The  exciting  scenes  which  they  had  passed  through,  and 
the  continuous  dangers  which  had  beset  them,  had  taken 
away  all  inclination  on  the  part  of  Colonel  Belden  and 
the  young  ladies  to  remain  in  their  present  situation  any 
longer  than  might  be  necessary.  It  was  therefore  agreed, 
that,  if  possible,  Walcott  should  return  the  same  night, 
and  that  preparations  should  be  made  for  starting  for 
Ballston  on  the  morning  of  the  next  day. 

Meanwhile,  the  three  men,  Walcott,  Catfoot  and 
M'Carty,  now  refreshed  with  a  night's  rest,  and  prepared 
with  cold  meats  and  other  necessaries,  had  made  their  dis 
positions  for  starting. 

"  Arthur,  my  boy,"  said  Colonel  Belden,  as  they  were 
about  going  off,  "I  beg  you  to  run  no  unnecessary  risk ; 
and  remember,  we  are  all  most  anxious  to  have  this  un 
pleasant,  but  necessary,  and  most  humane  business  at  an 
end." 

"  Never  fear  for  me,  colonel,"  said  Walcott,  "  my  only 
anxiety  will  be  on  account  of  yourself  and  those  we  leave 
here  behind  us.  It  was  my  intention  to  have  them  safely 
conducted  to  Ballston  to-day ;  but  this  affair  of  poor  Joe 
seems  to  require  that  we  should  act  at  once,  in  his  behalf, 
and  endeavor  to  save  him  from  a  fate  from  which  he  helped 
to  save  our  little  Lucile.  We  must  all  be  grateful  for 
that,  and  I  am  afraid  my  own  precipitancy  has  done  all 
the  mischief  in  the  present  case." 

"But,  Arthur,"  said  Marion,  "may  not  Joe  try  to 


THE    MORNING.  229 

do  you  some  evil  himself,  if  he  is  free  and  meets  you 
alone?" 

"It  is  not  very  likely,"  said  he;  "but  I  hope  to  be 
able  to  convince  him  that  I  meant  no  harm  by  a  hasty 
word." 

During  this  colloquy,  Lucile  had  been,  for  the  most 
part,  silent.  It  was  not,  however,  for  lack  of  interest  in 
the  subject,  but  for  lack  of  a  suitable  way  in  which  she 
could  express  her  interest.  At  last,  seeing  no  other 
method,  and  feeling  that  she  was  called  upon  to  evince  in 
some  manner  that  she  was  not  indifferent  or  ungrateful, 
she  walked  up  to  Arthur,  gave  him  her  hand,  and  said : 

"You  know,  Mr.  Walcott,  already,  how  grateful  I  am 
for  your  kindness  to  me ;  and  you  must  know  now,  that 
if  any  thing  happens  to  you,  I  shall  feel  that  I  am  in 
directly  the  cause  of  it.  So  I  beseech  you  to  be  careful 
what  you  do,  and  come  back  to  us — to  Marion — as  soon 
as  you  can.  Remember,"  she  added,  while  her  hand 
trembled  in  his,  "  remember,  your  life  and  your  happiness 
belong  to  more  than  yourself." 

Walcott  pressed  with  warmth  the  hand  which  she  gave 
him ;  and  after  having  repeated  his  assurance  to  all,  of 
his  prudence,  and  his  speedy  return,  he,  with  the  others, 
took  his  departure. 

It  was  not  long  after  their  start,  before  the  searching 
party  was  again  out  of  sight.  Those  who  remained  be 
hind  them  disposed  of  themselves  in  various  ways.  Brig- 
ham  undertook  the  apparently  Herculean  labor  of  remov 
ing  the  trunk  and  limbs  of  the  tree  which,  during  the 
storm  of  the  preceding  night,  had,  in  its  fall,  come  so 
near  crushing  his  cabin.  He  first  attacked  the  obstacle 
with  that  mighty  leveler  and  civilizer,  the  ax.  It  was  not 


230  SARATOGA. 

long  before,  yielding  to  his  resounding  blows,  the  great 
trunk  itself  was  divided  into  manageable  lengths,  and 
cloven  into  hundreds  of  small  pieces,  suitable  for  fuel. 
The  whole  mass,  consisting  of  the  long  and  ponderous 
shaft,  and  the  wide  and  bushy  top,  seemed  to  melt  away, 
like  an  icicle  before  a  spring  sun.  Ere  midday,  all  its 
unseemly  incumbrance  had  disappeared ;  and  it  was  now 
removed,  and  stowed  away  in  neat  piles  near  at  hand,  to 
be  used  during  the  succeeding  winter. 

Meanwhile,  Marion  had  induced  Lucile,  who  seemed  tc 
be  depressed  in  spirits,  to  take  short  strolls  through  the 
neighborhood,  endeavoring  to  enliven  her  by  sprightly 
conversation,  and  by  pointing  out  such  objects  of  beauty 
and  interest  as  were  to  be  found  in  their  situation.  They 
had  visited  the  Indian  hamlet,  where  they  had  been  suffi 
ciently  gazed  at  by  the  great  round  eyes  of  the  dusky 
and  dirty  young  papooses,  and  simpered  at  by  the  broad 
ugly  features  and  white  teeth  of  the  ugly  and  uncouth 
squaws.  Outside  of  the  huts,  lay,  in  stolid  indolence,  the 
lords  of  these  unseemly  households,  in  utter  want  of  oc 
cupation,  and  in  utter  indifference  to  surrounding  objects. 
A  few,  it  is  true,  were  absent  on  hunting  excursions,  and 
a  few  more  might  also  have  been  engaged  in  fishing. 

The  great  business  of  all  American  tribes,  that  is  to 
say,  war,  was  at  that  time  dull.  Of  the  white  people  they 
were  afraid ;  and  there  was  among  them,  at  this  moment, 
no  serious  quarrel  with  any  neighboring  tribe.  Depreda 
tions,  with  desultory,  but  ferocious  slaughter,  were  the 
only  engagements  which  could  arouse  all  the  elements  of 
their  savage  natures.  So,  like  a  civilized  nation  destitute 
of  commerce,  they  were  in  a  state  of  apathy  and  de 
cline. 


THE    MORNING.  231 

Our  young  heroines  traversed  the  miserable  village 
with  no  great  interest.  Small  dogs,  now  and  then,  snarled 
at  them  by  the  doorways ;  and  little  urchins,  six  years 
old,  launched  at  them,  as  they  passed,  their  little,  harm 
less,  blunted  arrows.  In  all  they  did,  and  wherever  they 
went,  Marion  observed  that  her  companion  still  seemed 
dull  and  disspirited.  She  even  began  to  complain  of  pain 
in  her  head,  and  of  weariness  in  her  limbs.  So  they  again 
went  back  to  Brigham's  cabin.  They  found  the  huge 
tree  nearly  cut  away ;  and  nothing  but  green  twigs  be 
strewed  their  path  as  they  returned. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

OLD    ACQUAINTANCES. 

BY  this  time,  it  was  nearly  noon.  The  atmosphere,  as 
on  the  day  before,  was  warm  and  genial,  though  now  free 
from  oppressive  sultriness.  A  gentle  breeze  could  be  felt, 
as  it  rustled  the  leaves  of  the  neighboring  trees,  and  poured 
its  cooling  breath  through  the  open  door  and  windows  of 
the  cotttage. 

It  was  then  that  the  sound  of  a  distant  horn  was  heard 
which  induced  all  the  occupants  of  the  cabin  to  come 
forth.  It  was  not  a  single  blast,  or  even  a  succession  of 
blasts,  as  if  uttered  for  the  purpose  of  calling  attention, 
or  of  giving  a  notice  or  a  warning.  It  was  rather  the 
leisurely,  regulated  and  metrical  note  of  a  bugle.  As 
yet,  however,  it  could  only  be  heard  on  its  louder  keys. 
In  a  short  time  the  sound  seemed  to  come  nearer,  or,  at 
all  events,  could  be  more  distinctly  heard.  It  then  became 
obvious  that  it  was  a  tune  and  not  a  blast  which  was  being 
blown  upon  the  instrument ;  and  the  fact  would  seem  to 
indicate  the  approach  of  a  troop,  or  some  procession  or 
party  of  gayety  or  pleasure.  It  came  from  an  easterly 
direction ;  and,  as  nearly  as  could  be  determined  upon, 
those  who  caused  it,  must  be  coining  up  the  left  bank 
of  the  Creek,  which  here  led  circuitously  toward  the 
Lake. 


OLD    ACQUAINTANCES.  233 

"That  sounds  like  a  trooper's  bugle,  Brigham,"  said 
Colonel  Belden  ;  "  have  you  any  idea  who  it  can  be?'"' 

''  I  reckon  it  must  be  some  party  from  Schuyler's — 
may  be  the  gineral  himself — or,  mayhap,  the  young 
patroon  from  Albany.  They  often  come  this  way  and 
use  the  tent  below.  It 's  a  favorite  notion  of  the  old 
gineral  himself." 

It  was  not  long  after  this,  before,  through  the  trees,  in 
the  distance,  could  be  seen  a  few  banners,  then  a  small 
equestrian  troop,  headed  by  a  trumpeter.  The  horses 
were,  however,  mounted  by  ladies  and  gentlemen  pro 
miscuously,  and  moved,  without  order,  along  the  footway 
or  road  observable  in  that  direction. 

Judging  from  appearances  it  was  a  gay  and  joyous  caval 
cade;  and,  as  it  came  nearer,  it  became  obvious  that  it 
was  not  of  a  military  character,  except  so  far  as  the  trum 
pet  and  the  pistols  of  the  gentlemen,  with  now  and  then 
a  slung  rifle,  might  make  it  so. 

"  It  is  as  I  supposed,"  said  Brigham  ;  "  some  folks  up 
to  see  the  gineral  from  Albany,  I  reckon,  have  taken  a 
notion  to  see  that  curiosity  down  there"  (pointing  to  the 
Rock  Spring).  "We  often  have  'em  here." 

Gayly  did  the  procession  come  on.  When  within  a  few 
rods  of  the  house,  however,  it  turned  obliquely  down  the 
bank,  and  headed  for  the  large  military  tent  or  marquee 
which  has  already  been  mentioned,  and  which  had  been 
pitched  closely  adjoining  the  spring.  Here  the  cavalcade 
paused,  and  soon  all  were  dismounted,  and  preparations 
apparently  made  for  immediate  occupation  of  the  tent. 

It  was  not  long  after  this  before  the  young  people  of 
the  newly-arrived  party  dispersed  themselves  about  the 
spring,  which,  as  an  object  of  curiosity,  while  its  watera 


234  SARATOGA. 

were  supposed  to  be  imbued  with  great  sanitary  power, 
was  the  principal  attraction  which  had  induced  them  to 
undertake  the  expedition.  Around  the  broad,  brown, 
conical  rock  over  which  its  waters  bubbled,  were  collected 
a  group  which,  in  gajety  of  appearance,  in  youth  and 
sprightliness  might,  perhaps,  rival  many,  of  the  same 
general  character — which  visit  that  same  spot  in  modern 
times ;  or,  at  all  events,  if  it  did  not  rival  them,  might,  at 
least,  serve  to  suggest,  and  in  some  sort  of  prophetic  way, 
to  foreshadow  them. 

It  may  be  remarked  that,  excepting  the  fact  that  the 
adjacent  grounds  are  more  clear  of  trees  and  brush,  they 
have  remained  for  three  quarters  of  a  century  and  up  to 
the  present  time,  almost  entirely  unaltered  and  unim 
proved.  A  recent  visitor  can,  therefore,  easily  imagine 
what  must  have  been  the  appearance  of  a  troop,  such 
as  we  have  mentioned,  at  the  time  of  which  we  are 
writing. 

Colonel  Belden  and  hia  party  had,  meanwhile,  retired 
within  the  shelter  of  Brigham's  cabin.  They  could,  every 
now  and  then,  hear  from  where  they  sat,  merry  peals  of 
laughter  and  voices  ringing  with  all  the  joyous  energy  of 
youth.  Presently  a  gay  plume,  and  then  a  bright,  fresh, 
and  blooming  face  arose  from  the  brink  of  the  slope  and 
was  presented  to  the  eye,  on  the  plateau  where  the  hut 
stood.  Then  young  men  came.  And  thus,  in  diverging 
parties,  like  the  crystal  streamlets  which  poured  in  all 
directions  from  the  apex  of  Rock  Spring,  did  the  visitors 
scatter  themselves  around. 

Gladness  and  merriment  reigned  everywhere.  Some 
went  up  to  the  Indian  village,  some  followed  the  still 
course  of  the  brook  as  it  stole  on  its  shadowy  way  beneath 


OLD    ACQUAINTANCES. 

the  dark  entangled  branches  of  the  willows ;  and  some, 
with  freer  step,  betook  themselves  to  the  high  open  woods, 
where,  with  a  refreshing  sense  of  vastness,  of  freedom, 
and  of  solitude,  each  young  heart  could  more  readily  find 
its  kindred  one ;  and  thought  and  emotion  could  flow  on 
in  conjoined  streams.  t=  » 

Among  the  new  comers,  Brigham  soon  found  out  ac 
quaintances  enough.  Much  to  his  disappointment  how 
ever,  General  Schuyler  himself  was  not  there;  but  in 
stead  of  him,  were  one  or  two  men,  still  young,  whom  he 
had  known  during  the  recent  war  as  mere  boys  in  service, 
but  who,  from  gallantry,  or  family  or  political  influence, 
had  now  attained  to  rank  and  position.  By  these,  he  was 
at  once  recognized,  and  much  inquiry  and  congratulation, 
nowise  pertinent  to  our  story,  took  place  between  them. 

One  of  them  had  attained  his  military  majority ;  and 
though  still  young,  and  since  the  peace,  withdrawn  from 
active  service,  he  still  felt  proud  of  the  circumstances 
which  led  to  his  promotion,  and  kept  his  memory  stored 
with  the  stirring  events  he  had  witnessed.  This  young 
man,  whom  we  will,  for  lack  of  a  better  designation,  call 
Floyd,  was  a  native  of  the  county  of  Westchester,  once 
the  famous  "  neutral  ground."  From  the  convenience  of 
his  place  of  residence  to  the  city  of  New  York,  he  had 
some  years  before,  been  well,  if  not  intimately  acquainted 
with  Colonel  Belden  and  his  family.  Time,  different 
habits,  and  different  occupations,  had,  however,  for  a  con 
siderable  period  separated  them.  He  Lad  known  the 
daughter  as  a  mere  child,  and  he  remembered  her  as  pos 
sessing  a  charming  figure  that  gave  promise  of  womanly 
beauty;  and,  as  gifted  with  long,  soft,  flowing  ringlets, 
and  gentle  blue  eyes.  In  her  girlish  frolics  she  had  often 


236  SARATOGA. 

chosen  him  for  her  playfellow,  and  even  sat  and  prattled 
upon  his  knee  with  the  affectionate  confidence  and  engag 
ing  vivacity  of  early  years.  He  was  then  already  a  man, 
and  she  a  child. 

But  a  few  years,  in  one  sense,  had  annihilated  the  space 
between  them,  while  in  another,  it  had  placed  them  still 
further  apart.  He  was  still  a  young  man,  and  she,  though 
the  actual  difference  in  their  ages  remained  the  same,  and 
would  continue  the  same,  to  separate  them  by  its  interval, 
like  a  wall  of  iron  forever,  had  grown  to  a  full  woman's 
estate ;  and  might  now  vie  for  his  equal  affection,  and 
stand  the  peer  and  eligible  companion  of  all  of  his  age 
and  sex. 

But  these  relations  were  not,  at  the  time  thought  of 
by  either  of  the  persons  concerned.  How  should  they  be  ? 

Marion  had,  as  we  have  said,  withdrawn  into  the  cabin 
on  the  approach  of  the  strangers,  and  was  now  caring, 
with  affectionate  solicitude,  for  Lucile,  who  hourly  grew 
more  dejected  in  spirits,  and  ill  in  body.  Of  the  presence 
of  Floyd  there  was,  of  course,  no  suspicion  and  no  thought ; 
and,  of  his  former  acquaintance,  whenever  it  occurred  to 
her  memory  at  all,  she  only  preserved  a  faint,  though  an 
agreeable  trace. 

On  the  other  hand,  he,  although  a  soldier,  had  got  so 
far  through  the  world,  not  only  with  sound  limbs  but  with 
a  whole  heart — the  one,  perhaps,  for  gentlemen  of  his  pro 
fession,  as  great  a  miracle  as  the  other.  So  that  the  years 
of  his  manhood,  being  as  yet  few  and  happy,  had  passed 
lightly  over  him — had  left  no  wrinkle  upon  his  forehead, 
and  no  sadness  in  his  heart.  His  humor  was  buoyant  and 
gay ;  and  upon  expeditions  of  pleasure  like  that  in  which 
he  was  now  engaged,  he  was  generally  a  ruling  spirit. 


OLD    ACQUAINTANCES.  237 

He  was  among  those  who  had  first  ascended  the  bank 
westward  of  the  spring;  and  there,  having  recognized 
Brigham  as  an  old  companion  in  arms,  he  had  made  many 
inquiries  as  to  his  position  and  present  circumstances ; 
and,  among  other  things,  learned  from  him  of  the  presence 
of  Colonel  Belden.  Leaving  his  companions  for  the 
moment,  therefore,  he  hastened  to  pay  his  respects  to  the 
old  gentleman.  He  met  him  at  the  door,  and  was  im 
mediately  recognized  and  warmly  greeted. 

"  My  dear  colonel,"  said  Floyd ;  "  the  sight  of  you  has 
much  increased  the  happiness  I  have  in  to-day's  visit; 
but  I  am  a  little  surprised  to  find  that  you  appear  to  be 
so  nearly  unaccompanied?" 

"  Not  quite  alone,  my  boy,"  replied  Colonel  Belden, 
with  a  smile.  "  Not  quite  alone,  for  there  is  an  old  play 
fellow  of  yours  here  with  me." 

"  Whom  do  you  mean,  colonel?  Am  I  to  have  another 
surprise  ?" 

"  You  shall  judge  for  yourself,"  was  the  answer,  as  the 
old  gentleman  approached  the  entrance  of  the  inner  apart 
ment,  from  which  he  presently  returned,  leading  his 
daughter  by  the  hand. 

"  Why,  father,"  said  she,  "  it  is  Richard  Floyd !  How 
delightful  to  see  him  here !" 

As  she  said  this,  she  hastened  forward,  almost  forgetting 
that  she  was  no  longer  a  child ;  and  taking  his  hand,  she 
had  almost  kissed  him  as  of  old,  before  she  fully  recol 
lected  that  while  time  had  been  adding  to  her  years  and 
her  stature,  it  had  also  been  raising  up  a  barrier  of  for 
mality  and  propriety  between  herself  and  him,  which  she 
could  not  now  with  impunity  throw  down.  The  impulse 
was  nevertheless,  strong  upon  the  warm-hearted  girl ;  and 


238  SARATOGA 

she  blushed  as  she  caught  herself,  nearly,  in  flagrante 
delicto.  But  no  proprieties  could  prevent  her  from  mani 
festing  the  deep  and  surprised  pleasure  which  she  really 
felt. 

As  for  the  young  man  himself,  he  was  completely  taken 
aback.  If  he  had  expected  to  see  the  daughter,  it  was 
only  as  a  child — one  whom  he  could  take  up  in  his  arms 
and  kiss.  It  was  as  such  that  she  existed  in  his  memory. 
Instead  of  that,  however,  he  now  beheld  a  well-grown, 
though  delicately  formed,  and  as  he  thought,  a  very 
charming  young  lady,  rushing  toward  him,  and  reclaiming 
with  eagerness,  the  long  interrupted  acquaintance.  Had 
her  action  been  completely  that  of  the  child  he  had  thought 
her,  and  had  her  arms,  as  in  former  days,  been  thrown 
affectionately  round  his  neck,  he  would  not  at  that  moment, 
perhaps,  have  been  able  suitably  to  acknowledge  the  favor, 
or  even  to  receive  it  with  the  proper  degree  of  grace, 
such  complete  possession  had  surprise  taken  of  him.  But 
young  men  are  not  apt,  in  like  situations,  to  remain  long 
in  a  state  of  stupefaction.  So  that  it  was  but  a  moment, 
before  Floyd  had  so  far  rallied  as  to  say,  with  some  con 
fusion  : 

"You  have  taken  me  in  ambush  with  a  vengeance, 

colonel.     I  was  looking  out  to  see  some  old  companion  in 

arms,  but  instead  of  that,  I  find  little  Marion — I  beg  her 

pardon — I  find  a  young  lady,  who  has  so  grown  as  to  put 

*the  eye  at  fault  in  recognizing  her." 

"  She  was,  at  all  events,  an  old  companion  of  yours,  if 
not  a  companion  in  arms,"  replied  the  colonel. 

"  And,  Mr.  Richard,"  said  Marion,  "  you  need  not  look 
so  sorrowful  because  you  do  not  find  me  '  little'  any  more. 
I  have  not  grown  out  of  remembrance  of  you." 


OLD    ACQUAINTANCES.  239 

"Sorrowful,  did  you  say?"  answered  Floyd.  "You 
must  not  mistake  astonishment  for  regret.  Think  a 
moment,  when  last  I  saw  you,  I  had  to  stoop  to  hold  your 
hand  or  to  pat  you  on  the  head ;  and  now  as  we  stand, 
your  head  is  as  high  as  my  shoulder,  and  your  heart  is 
almost  up  to  mine." 

"  Up  to  yours,  indeed,"  said  she,  with  a  laugh;  "my 
heart  already  appears  to  be  a  great  way  ahead  of  yours, 
judging  by  the  length  of  time  it  takes  you  to  recollect 
old  friends." 

"  It  is  not  the  heart,  but  the  head  that  is  slow,  my  little 
lady,"  said  he. 

"  The  heart  should  then  have  quickened  the  head,"  said 
she ;  "  I  am  sure  mine  would.  And,  besides,  I  am  not  a 
'  little  lady'  any  longer,  and  you  must  not  call  me  so ; 
for  I  have  a  friend  here  who  is  smaller  than  I,  and  if  you 
give  me  such  a  name,  you  will  have  none  to  call  her  by. 
Would  you  like  to  be  shown  to  her — you  who  seem  to 
think  yourself  such  a  giant?" 

"Not  now.  Marion,"  said  he,  "one  surprise  of  this 
sort  will  do  for  the  present ;  and  I  am  well  enough  satisfied 
with  you,  not  to  be  off  at  once  in  search  of  pleasanter 
company.  And  so,  laying  aside  this  new  scheme,  and  re 
turning  to  the  old  one,  can  you  give  me  some  account  of 
yourself  during  this  long  lapse  of  time,  so  that  the  history 
of  your  progress  and  adventures  may,  in  some  sort,  ac 
custom  me  to  the  full-grown  woman,  as  you  stand  before 
me?" 

"For  that  matter,"  replied  she,  "an  account  of  my 
affairs  is  easily  enough  given.  But  before  I  begin  I  must 
positively  introduce  you  to  the  little  friend  I  spoke  of. 
There  now !  don 't  object,  for  I  insist  upon  it.  She  ia 


240  SARATOGA. 

small  enough,  and  handsome  enough,  and  dear  enough,  to 
make  all  your  pleasant  little  diminutives  proper  when  ad 
dressed  to  her." 

Marion  now  went  into  the  inner  apartment,  where  she 
endeavored  to  persuade  Lucile  to  come  forth  and  meet  her 
new,  or  rather  her  old  acquaintance.  She  even  rallied 
her  on  her  shyness;  setting  forth  in  lively  colors  the 
handsome  appearance  and  gracious  manners  of  the  young 
man,  and  jocosely  hinting  that  it  might  be  a  fine  occasion 
to  lose  her  heart,  if  she  had  not  managed  to  dispossess 
herself  of  that  inconvenient  commodity  already.  All 
these  persuasions  and  rallyings,  however,  were  fruitless. 
Lucile  felt  disinclined  to  the  task  of  meeting  strangers ; 
and  to  the  laborious  care  with  which  the  barriers  to  ac 
quaintanceship  are  usually  taken  down.  She  therefore 
persisted  in  her  refusal  to  go  out,  so  that  Marion  was  at 
length  compelled  to  leave  her  and  to  return  alone. 

"Where  is  this  famous  friend  of  yours,  whose  praiso 
you  trumpet  forth  so  loudly  ?"  said  Floyd.  "After  all  this 
flourish,  is  she  to  form  no  part  in  your  little  pageant?" 

"She  is  afraid  of  you,"  answered  Marion.  "I  sup 
pose  she  heard  what  a  severe  critic  you  are  upon  people, 
and  trembles  lest  she  shouldn't  pass  muster.  But,  seri 
ously  speaking,  I  am  afraid  she  is  a  little  indisposed. 
She  has  been  terribly  frightened  since  we  came  here,  and 
has  not  yet  recovered  from  the  shock." 

"  And  pray  what  has  occurred  to  alarm  her?"  asked 
the  young  man. 

Marion  here  entered  into  a  detail  of  the  events  already 
known  to  the  reader.  Her  recital  occupied  some  time. 
Floyd  listened  with  much  attention,  and  a  growing  inter 
est.  The  circumstances  were  also  sufficiently  unusual, 


OLD    ACQUAINTANCES.  241 

and,  if  related  by  strangers,  sufficiently  improbable  to 
call  forth  some  expressions  of  astonishment.  When  she 
had  finished,  he  was  silent  for  several  minutes,  endeavor 
ing  to  find  some  solution  of  a  tale  so  marvelous,  and  of 
characters  by  him  hitherto  unheard  of.  The  effort  was 
of  course  a  fruitless  one,  and  he  soon  gave  it  over  in  de 
spair.  Assuming  a  gayer  humor,  he  asked, 

"  And  pray  Miss  Belden,  who  is  this  Arthur,  who  has 
made  himself  such  a  hero,  and  whose  name  you  mention 
with  so  much  familiarity  ?" 

"  What,  Arthur  ?"  she  answered,  "  and  don't  you  re 
ally  know  who  he  is  ?  Why  he  is — he  is  a  very  old  friend 
of  my  father's — very  indeed — though  he  is  not  so  very 
old  either." 

While  making  this  reply,  Marion  had  hesitated  and 
blushed,  when  she  came  to  the  place  where  she  was  about 
to  state  in  what  relation  Arthur  stood  to  herself.  Though 
the  fact  was  well  known,  she,  for  some  cause  or  other  just 
then,  felt  a  repugnance  to  its  reaching  the  ears  of  Floyd, 
and  most  especially  from  her  own  lips.  Besides  this,  she 
was  not  entirely  free  from  the  shyness  which  almost  all 
young  persons  feel  on  so  delicate  a  subject.  So  that  in 
her  answer,  as  we  have  seen,  she  evaded  the  difficulty,  and 
even  gave  a  different  coloring  to  the  facts,  transmuting 
the  young  man  from  an  affianced  lover  of  herself,  simply 
to  an  ancient  friend  of  her  father.  It  is  true  that  she 
had  never  before  felt  the  same  reluctance,  to  the  truth 
being  divulged  on  proper  occasions.  She  had  never  dis 
avowed  it,  and  what  was  more,  had  never  before  avoided 
giving  a  frank  and  direct  answer  when  interrogated  on 
the  subject.  In  the  present  instance,  however,  she  urged 

to  herself,  that  the  fact  could  in  no  way  concern  Floyd  ; 
1C 


242  SARATOGA. 

and  therefore  she  felt  justified,  not  in  concealing,  but  in 
omitting  to  disclose  it.  The  simple  truth  was,  that  it  was 
none  of  his  business.  This  seemed  plain  enough,  and 
ought  to  have  been  conclusive.  But  to'  her  it  was  not. 
Her  soul  was  candor  itself,  and  the  slightest  shade  of  dis- 
ingenuousness  marred  its  clearness  and  its  beauty  like  a 
cloud  across  the  spotless  sky.  But  to  any  other  course 
she  felt,  at  the  moment,  an  invincible  repugnance,  not  that 
Arthur  in  her  judgment,  was  a  person  to  be  ashamed  of. 
On  the  contrary,  she  thought  him  worthy  to  be  mated 
with  any  one. 

All  these  thoughts  and  feelings,  meanwhile,  occupied 
scarcely  a  moment  of  time.  They  were  grouped  in  her 
mind,  rather  as  a  present  consciousness  than  as  a  train  of 
reflections. 

"But,"  said  Floyd,  noticing  Marion's  slight  hesita 
tion,  "telling  me  his  name,  and  his  Christian  name  at 
that,  is  not  telling  me  who  he  is.  I  begin  to  suspect 
there  is  some  mystery  in  it  all,  and  that  the  lucky  youth 
is  also  an  old  friend  of  yourself." 

Marion  was  again  a  little  confused,  but  managed  to 
answer  steadily : 

"  He  is,  in  foot,  what  you  suppose.  And,  I  am  sure, 
when  you  come  to  know  him,  you  will  like  him  as  well  as 
the  rest  of  us.  Lucile  almost  honored  him  with  her  love 
at  sight." 

"That  must  have  been  delightful,"  answered  Floyd: 
"  but,  after  all,  I  suppose  the  young  man  did  have  another 
name?" 

"  Well  then,"  she  answered,  "  aa  you  are  so  impatient 
to  know  it,  his  name  is  Arthur  Walcott." 

"  Arthur  Walcott !"  he  exclaimed,  while  his  coun- 


OLD    ACQUAINTANCES.  243 

tenance  changed  and  he  began  to  look  a  little  grave. 
"  And  how,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  unpleasant,  has  he 
become  so  intimate  a  friend  of  your  family?" 

"You  seem  to  know  him,  then?"  she  answered,  "but 
I  do  not  like  the  tone  in  which  you  speak  of  him." 

"Yes,"  he  replied;  "I  have  known  him  for  a  long 
time;  or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  I  knew  him  a  long 
time  ago.  To  be  frank,  I  do  not  wish  to  say  any  thing 
about  him  because — because,  the  fact  is,  we  once  had  a 
little  quarrel,  and  it  ended  in — 

"  Smoke,"  broke  in  Colonel  Belden,  who  had  heard 
that  part  of  the  conversation  which  referred  to  Wal- 
cott. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  young  man;  "in  smoke,  as  you 
Bay ;  but,  to  be  plain,  in  the  smoke  of  gunpowder,  though 
neither  of  us  was  hurt." 

"  Oh,  Richard !"  exclaimed  Marion,  her  old  familiarity 
coming  back  with  the  emotion,  "what  could  have  in 
duced  you  two  to  quarrel  ?  He  is  all  kindness  and  gen 
erosity,  and  would  not  so  much  as  harm  a  cat,  if  he  could 
help  it." 

"  Maybe  not,"  answered  Floyd,  "  but  I  thought  he 
had  harmed  me,  notwithstanding.  But  from  subsequent 
development  I  have  since  suspected  it  just  possible  that 
there  may  have  been  some  misconception  between  us." 

"  Such  was  the  fact,  you  may  rest  assured,"  said 
Colonel  Belden.  "  But  I  suppose  that  you  are  aware 
that  he  has  resigned  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  other,  "and  gone  into  that  rascally 
profession,  the  law." 

"  Look  out  how  you  speak  in  that  way  before  him,' 
said  Marion,  "  or  your  words  may  end  in  smoke  again." 


244  SARATOGA. 

"Well,  since  you  wish  it,"  the  young  man  replied,  "  I 
will  restrain  my  tongue  a  little,  though  I  must  say  that 
for  an  active,  ahle,  brave  young  fellow  as  Walcott  un 
doubtedly  is,  or  was,  to  waste  his  life  among  cobwebs 
and  pigeon-holes,  strikes  me  as  a  sinful  perversion  of  his 
qualities.  And  ever  since  I  heard  of  his  doing  so,  I  have 
disliked  to  meet  him,  for  I  could  not  help  thinking  he  had 
in  some  sort,  disgraced  the  army  by  his  choice." 

"Pooh!  pooh!  Dick,"  said  Colonel  Belden,  famil 
iarly;  "you  are  altogether  unreasonable  about  Wal 
cott.  He  has  never  disgraced  any  body  except  his 
enemies,  and,  take  my  word  for  it,  he  has  never  injured 
you;  and  so  you  will  confess  before  you  get  away,  or 
I  am  much  mistaken." 

Here  the  conversation  turned  upon  other  topics,  and  an 
hour  or  so  passed  away  agreeably  to  all  parties. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

MR.     VALCOUR. 

IF  the  reader  will  take  the  trouble  to  recollect,  or,  if  he 
can  not  recollect,  will  be  at  the  pains  of  turning  back  and 
referring  to  some  of  the  incidents  related  near  the  com 
mencement  of  this  story,  he  will  find  that  the  first  mis 
chief  attempted  by  wild  Jacob  was  announced  by  a  gray- 
hound  that  had  accompanied  the  party.  Since  the  fright 
which  the  poor  dog  subsequently  got  from  the  crazy  man, 
we  have  entirely  overlooked  his  movements,  or,  rather,  he 
has  disappeared  from  our  little  drama. 

At  the  time  of  these  occurrences,  Mr.  Valcour,  the 
father  of  Lucile,  was,  as  has  been  already  intimated,  re 
maining  at  Ballston,  then  a  place  of  much  more  frequent 
resort  than  Saratoga. 

He  had  been  too  feeble  to  accompany  his  daughter  on 
the  little  excursion  with  Colonel  Belden's  family,  but  had 
urged  her  to  undertake  it,  thinking  that  it  would  be  a  source 
of  much  pleasure  and  healthful  excitement.  The  day  on 
which  they  started,  had,  with  him,  passed  quietly  over. 
He  did  not  expect  the  immediate  return  of  the  party,  and 
was,  therefore,  in  no  way  disturbed  when  evening  set  in 
without  their  reappearance.  Then  some  hours  were  passed 
by  him,  hi  conversation  among  his  acquaintances,  after 


246  SARATOGA. 

which,  and  still  early  in  the  evening,  he  had  retired  to 
his  chamber.  The  night  was  a  quiet  and  peaceful  one. 
Those  who  have,  for  the  first  time,  found  themselves  in  a 
retired  country  hamlet,  surrounded  by  forest,  will  recol 
lect  the  overwhelming  sense  of  retirement  and  isolation 
from  mankind  which  they  experienced.  There  is  some 
thing  in  the  prevailing  silence,  and  something  more  in  the 
slight  noises  which  pervade  the  air  and  enforce  the  notice 
of  the  senses,  which  awakes  in  the  heart  new  and  vivid 
emotions,  refreshing  to  the  jaded  mind,  and  long  retained 
in  the  memory.  The  little  undulations  which  agitate  the 
atmosphere,  like  pebbles  or  drops  of  rain  falling  into  a 
still  pond,  only  seem  to  create  a  more  profound  repose. 
At  least,  they  give  the  suggestion  of  it. 

To  all  these  impressions  the  old  man  was  susceptible. 
He  enjoyed  the  sylvan  scene  from  his  open  window.  The 
moonlight,  falling  on  dark  green  trees,  ever  a  grateful  and 
beautiful  spectacle,  was  to  him,  at  that  moment,  peculiarly 
pleasant.  From  his  casement,  which  opened  from  a  room 
next  above  the  ground-floor,  he  could  look  out,  and  divide 
his  glances  between  the  shadowy  earth  below,  and  the  ef 
fulgent  sky  above,  studded  as  it  was  with  pale  stars.  He 
paced  his  room,  now  and  then,  slowly  pausing  at  intervals 
to  enjoy  that  scene  of  singular  repose  and  loveliness. 
Standing  there,  he  could  hear  the  low  hum  of  insects,  and 
catch  the  soft  and  delicate  odor  of  wild  flowers,  arising 
from  the  blossoming  world  below,  as  the  dew  descended 
upon  it. 

As  he  was  passing,  and  paused  by  the  window,  he  fan 
cied  that  he  heard  a  new  sound,  distant,  faint,  and  low — 
a  sound  still  different  from  all  the  others  which  arose  from 
the  dwellings  and  the  wilderness  around  him.  He  listened 


MR.    VALCOUR.  247 

attentively ;  but  it  was  not  then  repeated.  He  resumed 
his  slow  and  meditative  pace.  When  again  he  came  along 
by  the  open  casement,  again  did  that  far-off  intonation 
break  upon  his  ear.  In  a  few  moments  it  became  more 
marked ;  and  now  it  might  be  taken  for  the  howl  of  some 
distant  wolf,  or  for  some  other  of  the  wild  and  melancholy 
sounds  which  at  night  sometimes  disturb  the  solitudes  of 
great  forests. 

Again  it  sounded  forth ;  but  whether  from  the  old  man's 
fancy  or  not,  it  seemed  to  have  become  more  regular,  and, 
if  the  expression  may  be  pardoned,  more  humane  and 
familiar  than  the  coarse  cry  of  a  wolf,  or  the  sharp  wail 
of  a  panther. 

Though  still  judging  it  to  be  of  little  or  no  account, 
Mr.  Valcour,  in  his  sentry-like  pacing  to  and  fro,  and 
pausing,  could  not  avoid  attending  to  the  ever-swelling 
and  more  sonorous  outcry. 

The  little  village,  or  rather  hamlet,  seemed  to  be 
wrapped  in  repose.  No  people  were  astir.  In  those 
primitive  days,  early  hours  both  in  retiring  to  rest  and  in 
rising  from  it,  were  practiced. 

Becoming  more  and  more  interested  in  what  he  heard, 
he  stationed  himself  at  the  window  to  get  some  solution 
of  what  perplexed  him.  After  being  there  a  short  time, 
he  could  distinguish,  and  that  plainly,  as  he  thought, 
that  the  sound  which  had  so  echoed  in  the  distance,  and 
was  now  poured  forth  in  melancholy  sharpness  upon  the 
night  air  closer  at  hand,  was  neither  more  nor  less  than 
the  prolonged  bay  or  yelp  of  a  hound.  Besides,  it  seemed 
rapidly  approaching ;  so  that  soon  after,  much  to  his  as 
tonishment,  and  somewhat  to  his  alarm,  he  imagined  that 
the  sound  itself  was  familiar  to  his  ears,  and  that  it  waa 


248  SARATOGA. 

sent  forth  by  his  own  dog,  returning  to  him  in  this  un 
wonted  and  ominous  manner.  This  conjecture  turned 
out  to  be  correct ;  for  in  a  few  minutes  after,  he  got  sight 
of  the  animal  approaching  the  house.  Leaning  out  of  the 
window,  and  calling  to  the  dog  by  name,  he  saw  the  lat 
ter  exhibit  signs  of  recognition. 

For  the  old  man  to  descend  and  let  his  faithful  follower 
into  the  dwelling,  was  but  the  work  of  a  moment.  When 
he  returned  to  his  room,  he  endeavored  to  ascertain  by 
such  marks  as  might  be  upon  the  quadruped,  whether 
any,  and  what  circumstance  of  an  unusual  character  had 
taken  place.  In  this,  he  was  disappointed.  The  dog  was 
panting,  covered  with  dirt  and  moisture,  and  exhibited 
other  signs  of  a  long  run  and  great  fatigue ;  but  there 
were  no  marks  of  violence,  no  spots  of  blood,  torn  skin,  or 
wounded  limbs,  to  indicate  that  any  struggle  had  taken 
place.  For  all  this  he  appeared  to  be  but  ill  at  ease ;  and 
though  he  answered  to  the  caress  of  his  master,  and  fawned 
upon  him  in  his  gladness ;  yet  he  would  still  walk  rest 
lessly  about  the  room,  whining  piteously,  and  now  and  then 
scratching  at  the  door.  Then  coming  to  the  old  man's 
side,  he  would  again  fawn  upon  him,  and  look  wistfully 
into  his  face.  From  this  he  would  sometimes  turn  quickly 
and  walk  to  the  door,  looking  back,  as  if  he  sought  to  lead 
the  way,  and  wanted  to  be  followed. 

To  all  these  signs  the  old  man  was  most  attentive.  He 
puzzled  his  brain  with  useless  conjectures,  and  with  more 
useless  apprehensions.  A  dog  is  accounted  the  most 
faithful  of  followers — the  most  reliable  and  incorruptible 
of  friends ;  and  for  what  cause  this  one  had  thus  apparently 
abandoned  his  mistress,  seemed  indeed  a  mystery.  It  was 
not  in  the  nature  of  the  animal  to  tire  of  the  woods ;  and 


MR.    VALCOUB.  249 

it  was  hardly  a  possibility  that  it  could  have  got  lost.  Could 
it  have  wearied  of  the  unenterprising  society  of  ladies, 
with  whom  there  was  but  little  activity,  and  no  hunting  ? 
But  then,  what  was  the  meaning  of  those  prolonged  and 
mournful  howls,  which  thus,  in  the  depths  of  night,  had 
heralded  its  return  ?  What  forebodings  of  instinct,  what 
subtle  and  instinctive  sense  of  misfortune,  had  awakened 
the  apprehensions  of  the  poor  brute,  that  he  should  come 
thus  in  the  darkness,  to  announce  the  mystery  to  those 
who  might  feel  interest  in  its  solution  ? 

Mr.  Valcour  had  seen  too  many  vicissitudes  in  the 
course  of  a  long  life,  had  been  accustomed  to  too  many 
false  alarms  and  empty  premonitions  of  evil,  easily  to  give 
way  to  a  sense  of  unknown  calamity.  In  the  present  case, 
however,  it  was  more  than  himself  that  he  felt  to  be  con 
cerned.  His  daughter,  more  precious  to  his  heart  than 
his  own  life — than  all  his  earthly  or  future  hopes — 
might  be  threatened  with,  or  surrounded  by  dangers,  from 
which  the  humble  energies  of  a  poor  dog  would  be  power 
less  to  relieve  her,  but  might  not  be  entirely  useless  in 
summoning  aid.  Long  and  painfully,  and  with  nervous 
uneasiness,  did  the  old  man  ponder  on  the  circumstance. 

As  yet,  he  called  upon  no  friend.  He  thought  that  his 
fears  might  be  looked  upon  as  idle,  and  treated  with  ridi 
cule,  by  others  not  so  deeply  interested  as  himself.  Still 
he  resolved,  on  the  next  morning,  if  no  information  arrived, 
to  seek  out  an  explanation  by  some  personal  effort.  He 
determined,  in  that  event,  to  set  forth  himself;  and,  even 
if  he  had  no  attendance,  to  find  out  his  daughter,  and 
assure  himself  of  her  safety. 

With  these  resolutions,  though  with  many  misgivings, 
he,  at  last,  sought  repose.  Sleep,  however,  to  the  aged, 


250  SARATOGA. 

comes  slowly,  and  lingers  reluctantly.  Hours  on  hours 
passed  away  without  his  closing  his  eyes.  The  lethargy 
of  age,  is  not  such  as  to  soothe  the  brain  or  hush  the  nerves 
to  quiet.  Dull  wakefulness  haunted  the  old  man  on  his 
uneasy  couch,  like  a  black-winged  phantom,  ever  brush 
ing  his  eyelids  as  they  drooped  in  forgetfulness ;  and 
adding  coherence  to  his  thoughts,  as  they  sought  to 
mingle  in  unconnected  confusion.  Thus  uneasily  did  he 
lie  and  toss  on  his  fevered  bed  of  anxiety. 

Rosy  morning,  with  its  bright  and  virgin  blush,  was 
already  crimsoning  the  east,  before  full  forgetfulness  rested 
upon  the  troubled  spirit  of  the  old  man.  Then  indeed, 
the  wand  of  sleep  would  seem  to  have  been  waved  over 
him,  and  to  have  dropped  its  dew  of  repose  upon  his  eye 
lids.  Slumber,  that  sister  of  Death,  as  called  and  sung 
by  the  classic  poets,  then  sat  beside  his  couch,  and  like  a 
watchful  nurse,  smoothed  his  pillow  and  quieted  his  un 
easy  spirit. 

Morning  came  with  its  wide-spread,  pale  light.  Birds 
and  bees  awoke  to  labor  and  to  song.  Sun  rays  stole 
under  thickly-boughed  trees  and  through  closely-drawn 
curtains.  Men  and  other  animated  creatures  walked 
abroad.  And  in  the  full  career  of  the  new-born  cycle  of 
light  and  life,  did  the  old  man  again  awake,  unrefreshed 
by  sleep  and  unsoothed  by  temporary  forgetfulness. 


CHAPTER    XXIL 

JOE     IN     PERIL. 

WHEN  Walcott  and  his  two  associates,  Catfoot  and 
M'Carty,  started,  for  the  second  time,  in  pursuit  of 
Jacob,  they  at  first  supposed  that  he  might  have  got  back 
into  the  cave.  Knowing  his  violence,  and  the  little  re 
straint  which  even  beauty,  youth  and  innocence  could 
exercise  upon  him,  they  had  but  small  expectation  of 
finding  poor  Joe  alive.  Still  the  conceits  of  a  crazy  man 
are  so  erratic — so  out  of  the  ordinary  course  of  thought — 
his  conduct  is  governed  by  motives  so  peculiar  and  incal 
culable,  that  all  speculation  as  to  what  had  been  done,  in 
the  present  case,  was  entirely  idle. 

As  it  was  now  daylight,  they  had,  at  first,  but  little 
difficulty  in  following  the  trail.  It  did  not  point  or  lead 
to  the  cave,  but  kept  away  to  the  eastward  and  southward. 
From  this  circumstance  they  supposed  it  not  unlikely  that 
the  fugitive  had  betaken  himself  to  his  old  haunt  on  the 
brink  of  the  Kayaderosseras  valley.  In  this  hypothesis 
it  soon  appeared  that  they  were  correct.  In  the  course 
of  about  an  hour  they  came  into  the  vicinity  of  that 
place.  Before  proceeding  further  they  paused  to  listen, 
judging  that  Jacob,  following  his  usual  habit,  would,  if 
engaged  in  mischief,  be  noisy  and  uproarious  enough  to  be 
heard.  Having  waited,  however,  for  some  time  without 


252  SARATOGA. 

hearing  the  expected  sounds,  it  was  determined  to  pro 
ceed.  When  they  arrived  near  to  the  copse,  in  the  midst 
of  which  was  Jacob's  place  of  abode,  Catfoot,  by  a  light 
touch  on  the  arm,  arrested  the  steps  of  Walcott,  and, 
pointing  forward  over  the  tree-tops,  showed  a  column  of 
smoke  rising  slowly  above  the  place.  It  was  not  a  usual 
thing  for  Jacob  to  have  a  fire  there,  and  especially  at  that 
hour  in  the  day.  Something  remarkable,  therefore,  was, 
in  all  probability,  taking  place.  Could  it  be  possible  that 
he  was  roasting  his  unfortunate  prisoner  alive  ?  In  that 
case  some  outcry  of  pain  would  be  heard.  And,  sup 
posing  the  prisoner  already  dead,  what  cannibal  thoughts 
might  be  entertained  by  the  maniac  ?  It  was  shocking  t« 
imagine,  as  well  as  useless. 

So  far  all  was  still,  and  that  tall,  white,  silent,  spectral 
column  of  smoke  seemed  to  add  to  the  profound  hush  of 
the  scene.  Catfoot  was  now  detailed  to  move  forward  and 
reconnoiter.  He  dropped  softly  upon  the  ground,  and, 
by  a  rapid  and  stealthy  movement,  disappeared  beneath 
the  bushes  in  the  direction  of  the  spot  over  which  the 
smoke  arose.  Walcott  and  M'Carty,  in  the  meanwhile, 
remained  perfectly  quiet  where  they  stood.  It  was 
desirable,  not  only  to  prevent  any  evil  which  Jacob 
might  contemplate  doing  to  poor  Joe,  in  case  it  was  not 
already  done,  but  also  to  secure  the  person  of  so  dangerous 
a  character  to  prevent  the  recurrence  of  events  like  those 
which  had  recently  taken  place.  For  this  reason  Walcott 
was  proceeding  with  unusual  caution.  He  knew  well  that 
unless  he  could  come  suddenly  upon  him,  and  in  such  a 
way  as  to  render  escape  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  Jacob 
would  burst  away  from  them  on  being  discovered.  To 


JOE    IN    PERIL.  253 

pursue,  with  any  hope  of  overtaking  him  in  a  direct  chase, 
was  out  of  the  question. 

For  some  time  after  Catfoot  had  disappeared  beneath 
the  underbrush  his  two  expectant  companions  heard  noth 
ing  from  him.  The  smoke  still  rose  above  the  trees, 
showing  its  high  column  sometimes  white  and  thin,  and 
sometimes  heavy  and  dark,  as  if  wet  or  fresh  fuel  was 
added  to  the  fire  from  which  it  sprung.  The  air,  mean 
while,  was  so  motionless  that  the  tall  vapor  shaft  generally 
seemed  nearly  perpendicular,  and  only  waved  or  oscillated 
in  various  directions,  as  a  suspended  rope  will  swing  with 
the  lightest  breath  of  wind  in  a  still  atmosphere. 

This  extreme  quiet  rendered  it  more  likely  that  if 
Jacob  was  astir  and  anywhere  near  at  hand  he  would 
soon  be  heard  from.  After  waiting  with  patience  for  a 
long  time  Walcott  began  to  think  that  he  was  taking  un 
necessary  pains,  and  that  it  might  all  be  for  nothing.  He 
was  on  the  point  of  moving  forward  upon  the  suspected 
spot  to  ascertain  directly  how  affairs  stood,  when  suddenly 
the  Indian  re-appeared,  and,  by  a  sign,  gave  them  to 
understand  that  they  should  follow  him.  He  went  to  the 
right  of  the  course  at  first  taken,  as  if  he  intended  to  turn 
the  posftion  supposed  to  be  occupied  by  Jacob,  and  the 
others  followed  him  with  as  much  silence  and  caution  as 
possible.  After  creeping  along  for  some  distance  they 
came  to  the  brow  of  the  hill,  and  passing  over  it,  Catfoot 
changed  his  course  to  the  left,  and  then  moved  directly 
toward  the  place  whence  the  smoke  arose. 

Where  they  then  were,  the  hill  was  exceedingly  steep, 
rough  and  rocky,  and  it  was  with  no  little  difficulty  that 
they  made  their  way  forward.  The  crest  of  the  hill  was 
sharp,  like  the  angle  of  a  wall,  and  they  were  careful  to 


254  SARATOGA. 

keep  so  far  below  it,  that  any  person  on  the  upper  level, 
and  a  short  distance  back  could  not  see  them.  Proceeding 
in  this  manner,  it  was  not  long  before  they  came,  as  they 
imagined,  within  a  short  distance  of  the  fire,  the  smoke 
of  which  had  attracted  their  attention.  They  could,  in 
fart,  hear  its  crackling,  as  dried  sticks  and  twigs  seemed 
to  be  heaped  upon  it.  The  odor  of  smoke,  and  the  pecu 
liar  bitter  vegetable  smell  of  burning  leaves,  now  also  be 
came  perceptible.  It  was  evidently  necessary  that  they 
should  exercise  greater  care  than  ever.  Keeping  close 
together,  what  little  communication  took  place  between 
them,  was  more  by  looks  and  signs  than  by  words. 

At  length  they  reached  a  spot  where  above  them,  and 
fringing  the  edge  of  the  declivity,  was  a  thick  line  of  over 
hanging  bushes.  Catfoot  thrust  these  cautiously  aside, 
and  disclosed  to  the  others  the  view  beyond. 

In  the  centre  of  the  open  space  there,  was  a  circle  of 
dried  sticks  and  brush.  At  one  point  this  was  already  in 
flames.  In  the  midst  of  this  circle  and  securely  lashed 
to  a  stake  driven  in  the  ground,  was  poor  Joe,  for  whom 
they  were  so  anxiously  looking.  Singularly  enough,  he 
seemed  more  indiiferent  to  passing  events  than  they,  for 
he  neither  moved  or  spoke ;  and  on  a  closer  inspection,  it 
was  discovered  that  he  either  was,  or  feigned  to  be  fast 
asleep.  With  the  characteristic  stoicism  of  his  race,  he 
had  witnessed  the  preparations  for  his  destruction,  with 
the  coolness  and  apparent  disregard,  which  are  generated 
by  constitutional  phlegm,  or  a  sense  of  fatality.  The 
meaning  of  all  that  had  been  done  around  him,  he  well 
understood.  He  felt  himself  to  be  a  legitimate  object  of 
Jacob's  vengeance ;  and  now  having  fallen  into  his  power, 
he  expected  nothing  less  than  death,  and  was  in  no  way 


JOB    IN    PERIL.  255 

surprised  at  the  manner  in  which  it  -was  likely  to  take 
place.  Like  a  sentenced  convict,  therefore,  he  could,  and 
did  sleep  soundly,  the  hour  before  his  execution. 

The  fire  had  not  yet  sufficiently  advanced  to  disturb 
him  by  its  heat.  To  a  looker  on,  however,  the  sight  was 
an  appalling  one.  The  young  man  was  eager  to  rush 
forward  and  release  the  victim  at  once ;  but  the  Indian, 
more  prudent,  still  restrained  him.  Up  to  this  time  they 
had  seen  nothing  of  Jacob.  This  doubtless,  was  the  cause 
of  Catfoot's  hesitation.  But  they  had  not  to  wait  long 
for  him.  In  a  few  moments,  he  was  discovered  stealthily 
entering  the  bushy  inclosure  from  the  opposite  side,  bear 
ing  in  his  arms  a  quantity  of  dried  bush  and  sticks,  with 
which  to  feed  the  growing  fire.  Fortunately  the  fuel, 
hitherto,  had  burned  but  slowly,  or  the  arrival  of  Wal- 
cott  and  his  companions  might  have  been  too  late.  Jacob 
seemed  fully  aware  of  the  condition  of  his  victim ;  and 
went  about  preparing  the  fiery  surprise  with  which  he 
should  be  awakened,  with  the  same  air  as  that  with  which 
school-children  play  a  trick  upon  a  sleeping  companion. 
Moving  about  on  tip-toe,  while  his  eyes  sparkled  with  fero 
cious  joy,  he  would  take  the  burning  brands  from  one  place, 
to  dispose  them  in  another,  in  such  a  manner  that  the  fire 
would  communicate  more  rapidly,  and  burn  more  brightly. 
The  fresh  armful  which  he  brought  was  added  to  the 
circular  pile. 

The  affair  was  growing  critical,  and  Walcott  was  grow 
ing  more  impatient  than  ever  to  rush  forward  at  any  haz 
ard,  in  order  to  save  the  prisoner  from  the  painful  death 
which  so  nearly  awaited  him.  He  was  still,  however, 
restrained  by  the  phlegmatic  Indian  at  his  side.  Mean 
while,  poor  Joe,  lashed  securely  to  the  stake,  still  slept 


256  SARATOGA. 

on,  apparently  as  securely  and  as  sweetly,  as  a  young  in 
fant  upon  the  protecting  bosom  of  its  mother. 

Before  interfering,  Catfoot  seemed  waiting  for  some  de 
cisive  event.  When  Jacob  had  got  all  the  wood  arranged 
to  his  mind,  he  stepped  toward  the  thick  brush  behind  which 
his  pursuers  lay  concealed,  and  took  from  beneath  a  log, 
a  long  sharp  stake  which  seemed  to  have  been  prepared 
for  the  occasion,  and  which  to  all  appearance  was  about  to 
be  used  as  an  instrument  of  torture  or  as  a  skewer,  upon 
the  body  of  the  poor  victim.  By  this  time  the  fire  had 
considerably  increased,  and  the  thick  smoke  which  arose 
from  it,  mingling  with  Joe's  breath,  and  the  growing  heat 
beginning  to  affect  his  naked  limbs,  he  at  last  awoke. 

In  his  first  glance  around,  there  was  perceptible  the 
startled  look  of  fear.  In  an  instant  after,  however,  his 
countenance,  which  had  thus  been  momentarily  disturbed, 
like  a  surface  of  water  ruffled  by  a  flaw  of  wind,  settled 
back,  and  became  quiet  and  stolid  as  before.  All  this 
Jacob  had  closely  watched,  and  now  that  his  prisoner  was 
awake  and  seemingly  prepared  for  whatever  might  happen, 
he  burst  forth  loudly  in  his  peculiar  and  dissonant  laughter. 

"  So  ho !"  he  shouted,  "  00  ho !  my  fine  red  bullock  ! 
You  begin  to  warm  up  at  last  do  you  ?  You're  not  quite 
ready  for  the  first  turn,  or  I'd  give  ye  a  touch  of  my  fork," 
(here  he  gave  a  flourish  to  the  huge  stake  he  bore  in  his 
hands).  "  But  wait  till  you  are  a  little  soft  on  one  side 
like  a  roast  potato,  -jad  then  I'll  jist  prick  you  a  little  to 
let  out  the  steam.  So !  ho  !  You  are  nearly  ready  now 
are  you?" 

As  he  finished  this  he  did  in  fact  move  toward  the  fire, 
baVmcing  and  pointing  his  formidable  toasting  fork,  as  if 
'by i  ready  to  put  his  threat  into  execution.  The 


JOE    IN    PERIL.  257 

poor  wretch  within  the  fiery  circle,  gave  one  rapid  glance 
around,  to  see  if  there  was  yet  left  him  the  least  chance 
of  relief  or  escape.  None  appeared. 

Catfoot  now  silently  thrusting  aside  the  bushes  in  front 
of  him,  indicated  by  a  sign  to  Walcott  that  he  should  pass 
through.  This  was  instantly  done.  The  young  man  then 
stepped  quickly  forward,  and  just  as  Jacob  had  drawn  back 
his  powerful  arm  to  pierce  the  body  of  his  victim  with 
the  weapon  he  carried,  Walcott' s  hand  was  laid  upon  his 
shoulder.  The  crazy  man  turned  fiercely  upon  his  inter 
rupter,  but  his  eye  quailed  before  the  bold  determined 
glance  which  was  bent  upon  him ;  his  arm  dropped,  and  his 
whole  manner  at  once  became  pacific  and  submissive. 

"  Mr.  Whittaker,"  said  Walcott,  "  you  have  carried  on 
this  jest  long  enough.  You  must  not  frighten  people  any 
more  in  this  way,  or  by-and-by,  they  may  think  you  are 
in  earnest.  Catfoot,"  he  continued,  turning  to  his  com 
panions,  "  you  and  M'Carty  had  better  take  Joe  out  of 
the  fire  while  I  have  some  private  conversation  with  my 
friend  Whittaker  here." 

This  last  direction  was  quite  unnecessary,  for  the  two 
men  were  already  engaged  upon  the  task  indicated. 
Meanwhile,  the  condition  of  poor  Joe  had  become  critical 
indeed.  While  the  smoke  had  grown  almost  suffocating, 
the  fire  itself  was  beginning  to  scorch  and  blister  his 
naked  skin.  Though  he  uttered  no  cry  or  complaint, 
and  though  pride,  or  obstinacy,  or  aboriginal  superstition, 
thus  sealed  his  lips,  all  manifestation  of  fear  and  agony 
could  not  be  suppressed.  The  scorched  flesh  quivered, 
and  the  fixedhess  of  despair  shone  in  his  eye.  The  arri 
val  of  Walcott  upon  the  scene  did  not  entirely  reassure 

him ;  for  Walcott  he  now  regarded  as  his  mortal  enemy ; 
17 


258  SARATOGA. 

and  he  looked  for  no  forbearance  or  kindness  at  his  hands. 
It  was  not  until  the  other  two  men  had  kicked  aside  the 
firebrands  around  him,  and  cut  the  thongs  which  bound 
him,  that  he  began  to  recover  hope,  and  to  believe  in  the 
reality  of  his  rescue. 

Fortunately  no  great  evil  had  yet  been  done.  With 
the  exception  of  a  little  blistering,  he  found  himself  so 
far  unscathed.  But  his  limbs  were  stiff  from  long  con 
finement  ;  while  he  was  so  astounded  by  his  sudden  and 
unexpected  release,  that  for  a  moment  he  stood  like  a 
man  who  had  fallen  asleep,  and  awoke  in  another  world. 

Meanwhile,  Walcott  did  not  for  a  single  instant,  leave 
the  side  of  his  prisoner ;  and  scarcely  did  he  even  turn 
away  his  look  from  him.  It  was  a  sort  of  moral  chain  by 
which  he  kept  him  fettered.  This  time  he  was  determined 
to  make  sure  work,  and  to  allow  no  escape.  The  transac 
tion  which  he  had  just  interrupted,  was  a  sufficient  warn 
ing  against  any  future  negligence,  and  showed  the  impro 
priety  and  the  danger  of  allowing  such  a  creature  any 
longer  to  remain  at  large. 

As  yet,  poor  Joe  continued  to  be  almost  helpless.  The 
reaction  of  his  sudden  escape  united  to  the  stiffness  of  his 
limbs,  through  which  the  arrested  blood  had  hardly  yet 
resumed  its  circulation,  rendered  him  weak  and  faint  to 
such  a  degree  that  he  sat  down  upon  a  stone  hard  by,  to 
recover  both  his  thoughts  and  his  strength. 

"M'Carty,"  said  Walcott,  "be  good  enough  to  bring 
me  some  of  those  cords,  and  some  fresh  bark.  I  perceive, 
sir,"  he  continued,  turning  to  Jacob,  "that  you  have 
been  slightly  hurt.  We  will  just  put  a  fresh  dressing  on 
the  wound,  and  it  will  then,  doubtless,  soon  get  better." 

Jacob's  leg  was,  in  fact,  just  below  the  knee,  already 


JOE    IN    PERIL.  259 

rudely  bandaged  up  with  bark  and  thongs.  The  injury 
had  been  caused  by  the  bullet  fired  at  him  by  Joe.  The 
two  men  soon  came  up,  bearing  the  required  articles. 
Jacob  looked  foolish  enough,  as  he  regarded  his  wounded 
leg,  and  saw  the  toils  in  which  he  was  taken ;  but  as,  in 
furtive  glances  he  every  now  and  then  kept  watch  for  an 
opportunity  to  escape,  there  would  momentarily  shine,  in 
his  restless  eyes,  a  baleful  and  malignant  light.  But  with 
the  hand  of  Walcott  resting  firmly  upon  his  shoulder, 
and  his  gaze  rivetted  steadily  upon  his  face,  as  if  to  read 
his  intentions,  and  to  be  ready  to  thwart  them,  the  crazy 
man  gave  way  to  the  moral  force  which  enveloped  him, 
as  a  caged  lion  will  refrain  from  struggling  with  the  un 
yielding  bars  of  his  iron  prison. 

"Mr.  Whittaker,"  said  the  young  man,  at  length,  "now 
that  you  are  getting  reasonable,  let  me  call  your  attention 
to  these  friends  of  mine.  I  believe  you  have  met  them 
before.  They  will  assist  me  in  dressing  your  wound ; 
and  after  that,  will  accompany  us  to  some  place  where 
you  can  be  better  cared  for.  Be  good  enough  to  sit  down 
on  this  log  for  a  few  moments,  while  we  see  what  is  the 
matter." 

To  this  request  Jacob  yielded  a  reluctant  compliance. 
While  the  others  stood  behind,  Walcott,  stooping  down  in 
front,  quickly  removed  the  rough  binding  in  which  the 
injured  leg  was  swathed. 

The  wound  turned  out  to  be  more  serious  than  was 
supposed.  The  ball  had  gone  quite  through  the  calf  of 
the  leg ;  not^indeed  so  as  to  touch  the  bone,  or  to  cut  any 
of  the  large  blood-vessels  or  tendons,  but  still  so  as  to 
make  a  rough  hole  through  the  flesh,  which,  by  this  time, 
had  become  much  irritated  and  swollen.  To  judge  from 


260  SARATOGA. 

appearances,  it  must  have  been  very  painful,  especially 
when  Jacob  was  moving  about. 

"  The  wound  will  have  to  be  .probed,  I  am  afraid,"  said 
Walcott,  looking  up,  "to  ascertain  whether  or  not  the 
ball  is  lodged  inside.  The  operation  will  be  a  very  pain 
ful  one ;  and  it  will  be  necessary  for  the  moment,  to  tie 
your  arms,  Whittaker,  so  that  you  can  not  move  while  I 
am  engaged.  Otherwise,  you  may  interfere  with  me,  you 
know.  You  understand,  M'Carty?"  and  Walcott  gave 
the  latter  a  significant  look. 

"Oh!  as  for  that,"  broke  in  Jacob,  "I  don't  mind  a 
scratch.  You  may  cut  the  leg  off  if  you  like.  It  would 
be  rather  pleasant,  just  by  way  of  variety,  you  know. 
Ha!  ha!  Don't  you  think  so?" 

"I  do  not  think  so,"  replied  Walcott,  "  nor  do  you; 
and  I  beg  you  not  to  make  any  more  such  childish  remarks." 

In  the  mean  time,  the  two  other  men  had  secured 
Jacob's  hands  behind  him,  and  bound  them  strongly  with 
the  cord  they  had  brought.  So  far  so  good.  The  next 
thing  would  be,  still  under  pretext  of  the  wounded  leg,  so 
to  encumber  both  legs  as  to  prevent  him  from  giving  them 
the  slip  by  running  away.  Walcott  again  set  himself  to 
examine  the  injury,  and  soon  discovered,  what  he  had  all 
along  supposed,  namely,  that  the  ball  had  passed  entirely 
through.  There  was  thus  no  occasion  for  probing.  He 
then  caused  some  fresh  plantain-leaves  to  be  pulled ;  then 
bruising  or  mixing  them  with  the  soft  inner  rind  of  elm 
bark,  he  made  a  kind  of  mucilaginous  poultice,  which  he 
applied  to  the-  injury.  This  was  bound  fast ;  and  over  all 
and  around  the  leg,  were  lashed  a  number  of  splints,  in 
tended  both  to  keep  the  dressing  in  its  place,  and  to  pre 
vent  Jacob  from  running.  The  latter  submitted  to  all 


JOB    IN    PERIL.  261 

these  operations  m  silence.  He  was  not  so  wild  as  to  be 
the  dupe  of  so  many  pretended  cares  for  his  welfare ;  but 
he  was  still  overawed,  and  by  some  potent  moral  force, 
fascinated  when  being,  as  he  was  now,  in  the  immediate 
presence,  and  beneath  the  eye  of  Walcott. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

THE    SWORD    VS.    THE    GOWN. 

"WHY,  Dick,"  said  Colonel  Belden  to  his  young  friend, 
for  he  and  Floyd  were  now  walking  together,  at  some 
distance  from  the  hut,  ' '  I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  express 
any  ill  feeling  toward  Walcott,  and  especially  against  the 
profession  he  has  chosen." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  wrong,"  replied  Floyd,  "  in  even  hint 
ing  any  thing  against  him  personally ;  for,  except  that  we 
have  been  in  some  sort  rivals,  I  don't  know  but  I  like  him 
well  enough  after  all.  But  then,  to  be  a  lawyer !  Why, 
colonel,  you  yourself  must  think  that  quite  inexcusable  !" 

"On  the  contrary,  sir,"  said  the  old  man,  "on  the 
contrary,  I  think  it  the  best  profession  he  could  have 
chosen,  under  the  circumstances.  Military  men  are  apt, 
I  know,  to  entertain  a  poor  opinion  of  legal  gentlemen ; 
but  take  my  word  for  it,  there  is  no  good  reason  for  the 
prejudice.  It  may  be  caused  by  the  fact  that  their  duties 
and  occupations  are  widely  different,  and  each  estimates 
the  importance  of  the  other  by  reference  to  proficiency  in 
his  own  calling.  While  they  judge  by  this  rule,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  a  very  considerable  degree  of  mutual  con 
tempt  should  exist  between  them." 

"  You  don't  mean,"  said  Floyd,  "  to  set  up  for  one  of 
their  apologists,  do  you?" 


THE  SWORD  VS.  THE  GOWN.      263 

''Certainly  not  for  one  of  their  apologists,"  answered 
the  other,  "nor  do  I  think  they  need  any.  So  far  aa 
talk  goes,  they  are  quite  able  to  take  care  of  themselves — 
a  thing  which  can  not  always  be  said  of  your  trade,  Dick. 
And  I  am  also  free  to  observe  that,  so  far  as  my  ex 
perience  goes,  that  profession  which  you  seem  to  hold  in 
so  much  dislike,  comprises  in  reality  a  greater  proportion 
of  high-minded  men,  than  almost  any  other.  If  one  of 
them  happens  to  be  a  defaulter  or  a  rogue,  we  never  hear 
the  last  of  it.  And  this  very  fact  goes  to;  prove  the  truth 
of  what  I  say ;  for  dishonesty  here  would  not  be  accom 
panied  by  so  much  outcry,  and  followed  by  such  universal 
execration,  were  it  not  that  it  comes  from  an  unexpected 
quarter.  Half  the  fortunes  in  the  country  are  daily  en 
trusted  to  the  care  and  integrity  of  these  very  men  of 
whom  you  think  so  poorly,  or  at  least,  of  whom  you  speak 
so  lightly." 

"Still,  sir,"  answered  Floyd,  "you  confess  that  they 
do,  now  and  then,  turn  out  a  scamp  or  so?" 

"Just  as  the  army  turns  out  a  coward,  or  the  church 
a  hypocrite,  and  no  more.  What  I  claim  for  the  lawyers, 
is,  not  that  they  are  naturally  more  honest  than  others, 
for  no  such  distinction  can  be  taken  in  favor  of  any  class, 
but  that  the  very  nature  of  their  profession  is  one  of  trust 
and  confidence — one  in  which  integrity  is  a  necessary  in 
gredient.  A  lawyer  without  it,  would  as  soon  lose  his 
practice,  as  an  officer  without  courage  would  lose  his 
rank." 

"  But  still,  sir,"  persisted  Floyd,  "  what  is  the  reason 
that  such  a  prejudice  exists  against  them?  Can  there  be 
all  this  smoke  without  any  fire?" 

"  There  is  no  such  prejudice  except  among  the  ignorant ; 


264  SARATOGA. 

or,  you  will  excuse  me  for  saying  so,  among  those,  who, 
like  yourself,  have  had  no  proper  experience,  and  have 
not  sufficiently  reflected  upon  the  subject.  It  certainly  is 
as  honorable  to  plead  for  a  cause  as  to  fight  for  it.  But, 
you  say,  a  lawyer  advocates  the  claims  of  his  clients,  right 
or  wrong.  Suppose  it  is  so.  Does  the  soldier,  when  he 
goes  into  battle,  stop  to  inquire  whether  his  country  be 
in  the  right  or  the  wrong  ?  If  a  comparison  must  be  in 
stituted  between  the  two,  I  should  say  that  it  was  infinitely 
more  honorable  and  ennobling,  for  a  reasonable  being  to 
advocate  a  cause — grant  it  for  argument's  sake  to  be  a 
wrong  one — by  an  appeal  to  the  judgment  of  mankind, 
than  to  endeavor  to  advance  it  by  violence  and  brute  force. 
Do  not  mistake  me ;  I  have  no  disposition  to  depreciate 
my  own  profession,  but  I  wish  to  exhibit,  in  the  most 
palpable  light,  the  injustice  of  the  prejudices  which  you 
seem  to  have  imbibed  upon  the  subject." 

"I  must  confess,  sir,"  said  Floyd,  after  a  moment's 
reflection,  "that  you  have  presented  the  question  in  an 
aspect  which  to  me,  is  entirely  new." 

"Depend  upon  it,  my  young  friend,"  replied  the  colonel, 
"the  more  you  think  upon  the  subject,  the  more  will 
your  views  accord  with  mine.  The  soldier  is  well  in  his 
place.  In  times  of  war  and  danger,  he  is  the  bulwark  and 
safeguard  of  his  country.  But  even  in  our  late  war,  we 
can  but  confess  that  such  men  as  Henry,  Jefferson,  Lee 
and  Jay,  did  as  much  by  their  eloquence  and  wisdom,  as 
any  four  of  our  best  generals  did  by  their  military  skill. 
Yet  these  men  were  all  lawyers ;  as  were  also  Hamilton 
and  a  host  of  others,  who  were  the  very  pillars  of  the 
Revolution.  Let  me  say,  Dick,  that  you  never  should 
be  guilty  of  ridiculing  or  denouncing  a  profession  which 


THE  SWORD  VS.  THE  GOWN.      265 

has  rendered  such  men  illustrious,  or  in  which  so  much 
genius  has  been  displayed." 

"  But,  sir,"  still  persisted  Floyd,  "I  am  not  speaking 
of  such  men,  but  of  the  common  run  of  lawyers,  who  have 
always  appeared  to  me  to  be  a  mean-spirited,  knavish, 
pettifogging  set." 

"  I  don't  know  where  you  got  your  experience,  then, 
for  the  simple  fact  is  otherwise.  Knaves  there  certainly 
are  among  them,  and  fools  too,  for  that  matter.  You  can 
not  expect  every  man  in  the  ranks  to  be  fit  for  a  general ; 
nor  can  you  look  for  a  Mansfield  in  every  poor  lawyer 
whom  lack  of  practice  has  driven  into  a  garret,  or  whom 
poverty  has  forced  to  seek  for  clients  among  the  wretched 
and  insolvent.  If  he  sometimes  pleads  the  cause  of  a 
rogue,  it  only  shows  that  the  rogue  has  succeeded  in 
getting  a  person  better  and  more  respectable  than  himself 
to  speak  on  his  behalf  before  a  hostile  community,  or  to 
keep  him  in  countenance  before  his  accusers,  so  that  the 
reins  of  justice,  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  may 
not  be  drawn  too  tightly.  But  I  do  not  intend  to  go  at 
length  into  all  the  questions  which  may  arise  in  this  con 
nection.  You  ought  to  have  learned  by  this  time  that 
men,  in  masses,  are  always  alike,  and  that  no  necessary 
and  proper  calling  in  life  is  to  be  despised." 

"Well,"  replied  Floyd,  "I  may  not,  perhaps,  despise, 
but  still  I  may  dislike  them." 

"  You  may  do  either  of  these  things  if  you  see  fit,  but 
you  can  do  neither  with  justice.  A  little  impartial  reflec 
tion  will  convince  you  that  in  a  community  which  professes 
to  be  governed  by  law,  those  who  understand  it,  are  tho 
ones  to  administer  it,  and,  to  that  extent,  are  among  the 
props  of  society ;  for  law,  without  its  proper  enforcement; 


266  SARATOGA. 

is  but  a  useless  array  of  rules.  Who  are  the  men  that 
you  look  to  to  fill  public  stations,  to  be  conservators  of 
the  peace,  members  of  legislative  bodies,  the  incumbents 
of  administrative  and  executive  offices?  Are  they  not 
generally  lawyers  ?  And  without  them,  how  could  it  be 
possible,  for  legislators  especially,  to  get  along?  You 
may  depend  upon  it,  sir,  I.  am  not  putting  this  thing  in 
too  strong  a  light.  I  am  only  presenting  to  you  the  plain 
truth,  which,  it  would  seem  to  me,  ought  to  be  quite  ob 
vious  to  every  man  who  undertakes  to  think  upon  the 
subject.  And  yet,  my  dear  fellow,  you  talk  of  disliking 
or  looking  down  upon  this  profession  !  It  seems  to  me 
that  such  sentiments  are  very  unjust  and  ill-considered. 
But  we  are  quite  forgetting  ourselves  in  this  discussion. 
I  only  hope  you  will  think  better  of  Arthur  and  his  call 
ing  hereafter.  Meanwhile,  let  us  return  toward  the 
house  to  see  how  they  are  all  getting  on  there." 

"To  say  truth,"  answered  Floyd,  as  they  moved  in 
the  direction  indicated,  "I  begin  to  feel  a  little  ashamed 
of  my  boyish  expressions  on  the  subject  we  have  been 
talking  about,  and  I  trust,  if  you  have  found  my  opinions 
open  to  some  comment,  you  will  not.  at  least,  find  me  in 
disposed  to  correct  them.  I  shall  certainly  avoid  giving 
offense  to  Walcott  by  any  reflections  upon  his  present 
course  of  life." 

"You  will  confer  a  favor  upon  me  by  not  doing  so," 
replied  Colonel  Belden ;  "  and  when  you  come  to  look  at 
the  subject  as  I  have  presented  it,  and  to  understand  Wnl- 
cott's  position,  you  will  find  him  to  be  still  a  man  with 
feelings  as  high  and  honor  as  bright  as  if  he  could  yet 
strut  through  a  camp,  or  swagger  and  swear  at  the  head 
of  a  squadron  of  dragoons." 


THE    SWtRD    VS.    THE    a  OWN.  267 

"You  practice  the  'noble  art  of  self-defense'  a  little 
yet,  colonel,"  replied  Floyd,  laughing;  "for  I  see  that 
while  you  cover  your  own  position,  you  also  take  every 
opportunity  to  give  your  adversary  a  hit." 

"Not  unless  he  deserve  it,  Dick,  or  has  exposed  him 
self  to  it."  , 

"  Well,"  said  Floyd,  "  to  turn  from  the  abstract  to  the 
concrete — from  the  subject  to  the  man — where  did  you 
say  that  Walcott  had  gone?" 

"  After  the  poor  crazy  creature  who  has  lately  caused 
us  so  much  trouble.  I  suppose  the  girls  have  already 
told  you  the  story  with  all  due  embellishments." 

"  They  have  given  me  a  sketch,  or  rather,  Marion  has 
done  so,  for  the  other  I  have  not  yet  seen." 

"Ah!  yes,"  said  Colonel  Belden;  "poor  Lucile  is 
quite  ill  from  the  effects  of  her  fright.  She  "has  certainly 
endured  enough  to  make  her  so.  Suppose  we  go  at  once 
and  inquire  how  she  is." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  the  young  man,  "  and  par 
ticularly  as  I  suppose  my  own  squad  must  be  wondering 
where  I  have  hidden  myself  all  this  while." 

After  a  short  walk  they  reached  the  cabin,  where,  upon 
inquiry,  they  learned  that  Lucile  was,  in  fact,  quite  ill — • 
much  more  so  than  had  been  supposed — and  had  begun  to 
exhibit  some  symptoms  of  fever.  This  was  distressing 
enough  to  Colonel  Belden,  who  had  counted  upon  a 
speedy  retreat  from  his  present  quarters,  in  order  that 
he  might  return  to  Mr.  Valcour,  the  trust,  which  he  him 
self  had  so  nearly  lost,  and  which  now  threatened  to  be 
again  endangered. 

"Has  she  slept  much  during  the  morning?"  he  in 
quired  of  Marion. 


268  SARATOGA. 

"None  whatever,"  she  replied;  "and  hardly  any 
during  the  night.  I  sometimes  think  she  is  on  the  point 
of  wandering  in  her  mind,  and  especially  since  our  return 
from  a  short  walk." 

" Has  nothing  been  heard  from  Arthur?"  he  asked. 

•*  Nothing." 

"Perhaps,"  suggested  Floyd,  "there  is  something 
which  I  might  do  in  his  absence.  If  so,  freely  command 
me,  for  my  friends  in  the  tent,  down  yonder,  would  will 
ingly  spare  me  in  a  case  like  this." 

"No,  Dick,"  answered  Colonel  Belden;  "we  can  do 
nothing  that  I  see,  just  yet.  What  we  want  is  a  physician; 
and  I  don't  know  of  any  one  worth  sending  for  near  at 
hand.  Perhaps,  with  rest  and  quiet,  she  will  be  better 
by  to-morrow  morning  ;  and  it  is  now  too  late  to  get  any 
one  from  Ballston  up  here  to-day." 

It  was,  in  fact,  getting  to  be  late  in  the  day ;  and  after 
repeating  the  ofier  of  his  services,  Floyd  concluded  to 
take  his  leave,  intending  to  join  his  own  party,  which  he 
had  for  so  long  a  time  given  the  slip.  He  found  them  then 
in  scattering  clusters,  returning  from  their  various  rambles, 
and  concentrating  again  at  the  tent.  It  was  designed  to 
pass  the  night  there,  and  to  start  on  their  return  to 
Schuyler's  at  an  early  hour  the  following  morning. 

Brigham  was  now  pacing  to  and  fro,  before  his  own 
door,  exhibiting  some  marks  of  impatience. 

"  What  on  'arth,"  he  said,  "  can  keep  'em  away  all  this 
time?  I  thought  they'd  make  short  work  on  it  for  this 
once.  They  had  a  broad  trail,  and  broad  daylight  to  fol 
low  it  in ;  and  I  expected  for  sartain,  to  see  'em  enter  the 
clearin'  afore  now." 

"Why,  as  for  that,  Brigham,"  said  Colonel  Belden, 


THE    SWORD    VS.    THE    GOWN.  269 

who  stood  in  the  doorway,  "many  things  may  have  de 
tained  them.  Jacob  may  have  gone  to  some  distant  upot, 
and—" 

"No,  beggin'  your  pardon,"  interrupted  Brigham; 
"  he  never  goes  beyond  a  sartain  line  from  this,  and  Cat- 
foot  ought  to  have  got  hold  on  him  before  now." 

"And  besides,"  continued  Colonel  Belden,  musingly, 
and  not  noticing  the  interruption,  "they  may  have  been 
obliged  to  tie  either  him  or  Joe ;  or  one,  or  both  of  them 
may  be  hurt  so  that  they  are  compelled  to  move  slowly." 

"  There's  reason  in  that,  any  how,"  replied  the  uncere 
monious  Brigham,  "and,  by  George!  yonder's  a  proof 
on  it,  or  I'm  much  mistaken.  I  say,  colonel,  is  n't  that 
them,  moving  through  the  trees  out  there,  just  beyond 
the  clearin'  ?" 

"It  certainly  is  a  party  of  men,  but  whether  those  we 
are  looking  for,  I  can  not  make  out  from  this  distance." 

"  But  I  can,  though,"  now  answered  the  other,  confi 
dently;  "for  I'd  swear  to  Catfoot's  head-dress  any  day 
in  the  year;  and,  as  you  say,  sure  enough,  they're  a 
movin'  slow,  and  some  one  on  'em  is  a  limpin'  mighty  bad. 
Which  can  it  be,  I  wonder  ?  But  we  shall  soon  see." 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

REVELATIONS 

IN  a  few  moments  the  group  which  had  attracted  Brig- 
ham's  attention  emerged  into  more  open  ground,  and 
proved  to  be.  as  had  been  supposed,  Walcott,  returning 
with  his  companions  and  his  prize.  They  had  been  com 
pelled  to  move  slowly,  as  had  also  been  conjectured,  in 
consequence  of  the  bandaged  condition  of  Jacob's  injured 
leg — a  condition  more  attributable,  however,  to  their  fears 
of  his  escape,  than  to  their  anxiety  for  his  welfare. 

The  sun  was  already  behind  the  western  woods,  and  the 
men  came  on  slowly  in  the  gathering  shadows.  All  were 
silent,  either  from  fatigue,  or  from  being  busy  with  per 
sonal  reflections. 

"And  so  you've  got  the  critter  this  time,  have  ye?" 
said  Brigham,  who  had  gone  out  to  meet  them  at  some  dis 
tance  from  the  cabin;  "  had  much  of  a  time  on't,  Jim?" 

"  None  in  partic'lar,"  answered  M'Carty,  the  person 
addressed;  "in  fact,  rayther  a  dull  affair  for  all,  'cept 
'Joe  here,  who  came  nigh  on  having  a  warm  spell  on't." 

Brigham  now,  for  the  first  time,  observed  Joe,  who  was 
following  on  in  silence,  and  who,  as  usual,  showed  no 
signs  of  the  feelings  with  which  recent  events  had  in 
spired  him,  either  upon  his  countenance  or  in  his  man 
ner. 


REVELATIONS.  271 

The  old  soldier  and  pioneer  knew,  or  thought  he  knew, 
the  nature  of  an  Indian,  and  did  not,  therefore,  argue 
because  Joe  was  quiet,  and  had  assumed  his  customary 
manner,  that  he  had  forgotten  his  late  feelings  of  resent 
ment  against  Walcott.  He  saw  that  he  kept  constantly 
near  to  him,  and  to  Jacob.  It  looked  suspicious  to  his 
experienced  eye ;  and  he  resolved  not  only  to  watch  the 
savage,  but  to  put  the  young  man  again  upon  his  guard. 
In  the  course  of  the  walk  to  the  house,  he  learned  the 
circumstances  which  had  taken  place  during  the  early 
part  of  the  day,  in  connection  with  the  recapture  of  the 
lunatic.  In  spite  of  his  knowledge  of  Indian  life,  he 
could  not,  with  his  own  white-man's  feelings,  help  think 
ing,  that  if  Joe  still  meditated  upon  revenge,  after  what 
had  happened,  he  must  be  a  devil  incarnate.  Still  no 
trust  was  to  be  put  in  appearances.  And  again,  why  did 
he  hang  so  closely  upon  Walcott' s  footsteps  ? 

On  their  arrival  Colonel  Belden  greeted  the  young  man 
with  unusual  warmth.  A  serious  portion  of  their  difficul 
ties  had  at  length  been  surmounted.  The  maniac  was 
secured,  and  no  doubt,  with  Walcott's  co-operation  and  ac 
tivity,  all  things  could  be  put  in  such  train,  that  they 
could  extricate  themselves  from  their  present  dilemma, 
and  return  to  some  place  where  the  comforts  and  care  of 
civilized  society  could  be  obtained  for  the  now  suffering 
Lucile.  He  made  the  young  man  speedily  acquainted 
with  her  illness,  and  was  not  a  little  astonished  at  the  evi 
dence  of  deep  concern  which  he  exhibited. 

Meanwhile  Brigham  accompanied  the  Indian,  Catfoot, 
for  a  short  distance  on  his  way  from  the  cabin  to  the  vil 
lage  of  huts  up  in  the  forest. 

"Catfoot,"    said  he,  "what  do  you  think  of  Joe?" 


272  SARATOGA. 

The  other  paused  for  some  time  and  then  said : 

"  Joe  been  sick — got  well  now." 

"But,"  said  Brigham,  "do  you  think  he '11  try  any 
more  of  his  tricks  against  the  captain?  Because,  you 
see,  I'll  have  nothing  more  of  the  sort  done  about  my 
primises!" 

"  Joe  no  kill — no  shoot  cap  'n  now,"  was  the  reply  of 
the  Indian. 

' '  I  hope  you  're  right,  old  fellow, ' '  said  Brigham.  ' c  But 
what  makes  the  varmint  stick  so  clus  to  his  heels  all  the 
while?" 

"Jake  there,"  said  Catfoot. 

"  May  be  you  're  right,  arter  all,"  said  Brigham  slowly 
and  thoughtfully;  "may  be  the  critter  has  got  human 
feelin  's  and  wants  to  help  the  cap  'n  keep  that  wild  devil 
fest." 

Pausing  for  a  time,  Brigham  at  length  continued :  "  Cat- 
foot  you  and  I  are  old  friends.  I  won 't  thank  you  for 
what 's  been  done,  but  you  know  that  whenever  you  're  in 
want  of  anything,  and  I've  got  it,  or  whenever  you'd 
like  me  to  help  shoot  deer,  or  any  other  varmint,  I  Jm 
your  man;  and  so,  good-night.'' 

"Good,"  said  the  Indian  gravely;  and  the  two  sepa 
rated. 

Brigham  walked  thoughtfully  back  to  his  cabin.  There 
he  found  M'Carty  and  Joe.  The  latter  unaccountably 
seemed  bent  on  staying,  instead  of  resorting  to  his  own 
hut,  which  was  at  no  great  distance. 

"  So  Joe,"  said  Brigham,  as  he  approached,  "  I  hear 
you  had  a  pretty  tight  time  on 't  ?  You  must  be  tol- 
'able  hungry  by  this  time.  Suppose  we  have  a  bite 
together." 


E-BVELATIONS.  273 

Brigham  then  caused  to  be  produced  a  platter  of  cold 
meats,  upon  which  the  three  men  fell  to  work  with  their 
sheath-knives,  and  did  good  execution. 

The  evening  by  this  time  was  closing  in.  For  a  while 
the  men  ate  in  silence.  When  their  hunger  was  a  little 
appeased,  M'Carty  said: 

"What  has  happened  down  here  while  we  was  gone? 
For  I  see  lots  of  folks  down  thar  at  the  spring,  a  makin' 
a  time." 

"Nothin',"  said  Brigham,  "but  a  party  over  from 
Schuyler's  on  a  lark.  One  on  'em,  though,  is  an  old  ac 
quaintance  of  mine,  Dick  Floyd.  I  knowed  him  as  long 
ago  as  '77.  He  and  the  old  colonel  too,  was  mighty  thick. 
But  talkin'  of  the  colonel,  he 's  been  oneasy  on  account 
of  the  little  French  gal,  all  day ;  and  a  wishin'  for  the 
cap  'n,  as  you  call  him,  to  come  back." 

"  And  what's  the  matter  with  the  gal  ?"  asked  M'Carty. 

"  That's  mor'n  I  can  tell,"  replied  Brigham.  "  She 's 
been  in  the  dumps  all  the  morning  in  consekens,  I  sup 
pose,  of  the  troubles  yesterday ;  but  this  afternoon  they  've 
been  a  talkin'  of  fever,  and  what  not.  Hows'ever,  I 
ain't  seen  her,  and  so  can't  speak  for  sartain." 

Having  finished  the  meal,  which  Brigham  had  shared 
with  them  more  from  hospitality  than  appetite,  they  rose 
up.  Joe,  now  for  the  first  time  breaking  silence,  asked : 

"Where  cap  'n?" 

"  What  do  you  want  to  see  him  for  now?"  asked  Brig- 
ham. 

"  No  matter,"  was  the  reply;  "  want  him,  bad." 

"Well,"  said  Brigham,  "it 's  seldom  a  natyve  speaks ; 
but  to  give  the  devil  his  due,  I  '11  say  this  for  him,  that 
when  he  does  speak,  he  generally  makes  short  work  on 
18 


274  SARATOGA. 

it  and  has  a  meanin'  to  it.  So  I  '11  jest  say  a  word  to 
Walcott  for  ye,  to  see  what  '11  come  on 't." 

Brigham  accordingly  went  into  the  cabin  to  call  forth 
Walcott.  When  the  latter  appeared,  Joe  said : 

"Pretty  squaw  sick,  eh?  Know  what  matter?  Joe 
make  well." 

"You  make  her  well,  Joe?"  said  Walcott.  "I  wish 
you  could,  my  good  fellow ;  but  I'm  afraid  you  can  do 
nothing." 

" Make  Joe  see  squaw,  eh?"  persisted  the  savage. 

Walcott  looked  around  inquiringly  at  Brigham,  who 
nodded  his  head,  saying:  "It '11  do  no  harm,  and  I've 
knowed  him  to  do  a  deal  of  good,  afore  now,  though  it 
was  in  the  case  of  a  rheumatis." 

In  accordance  with  this  opinion,  Walcott  took  the  In 
dian  into  the  cabin ;  more,  however,  be  it  confessed,  to 
comply  with  the  prevailing  humor,  than  from  any  expect 
ation  of  good  to  result  from  it 

A  few  moments  afterward,  Marion  came  out  of  the 
inner  room  to  request  Walcott  himself  to  enter.  They 
found  the  poor  sufferer  in  a  pitiable  plight.  The  apart 
ment  itself  was  rude  and  uncomfortable  for  one  as  deli 
cately  bred  as  she  was.  The  pallet  where  she  lay,  was  in 
one  corner.  The  yellow  light  of  a  tallow  candle,  which 
was  stuck  up  in  a  block  of  wood,  fell  upon  the  flushed 
and  agitated  features  of  the  invalid,  as  she  lay  there, 
moaning  and  restless.  At  the  moment,  she  was  in  a  state 
of  partial  stupor,  and  did  not  open  her  eyes.  The  Indian 
had  placed  himself  to  examine  her  appearance,  with  all 
imaginable  gravity.  For  a  few  seconds  he  held  her  little 
white,  delicate  hand  within  his  own,  swarthy  from  race, 
and  hardened  by  exposure.  It  was  as  if  a  lily  should  lay 


REVELATIONS.  275 

within  a  cup  of  bronze.  He  held  it  however,  but  for  a 
moment,  and  the  act  seemed  to  answer  the  same  purpose 
as  the  feeling  of  the  pulse — a  modern  professional  accom 
plishment  utterly  unknown  to  this  doctor  of  nature.  While 
that  pale,  diminutive,  untrembling  hand  had  thus  for  a 
moment  remained  in  his  own,  the  rude  savage,  as  he  bent 
his  harsh  brown  features  over  it,  seemed  to  become  half- 
conscious  of  the  vast  gulf  which  separated  that  refined 
and  delicate  organization  from  his  own.  No  emotion, 
however,  disturbed  his  features ;  and  but  for  a  single  sec 
ond,  was  there  a  puzzled,  amazed,  admiring  look  in  his 
dark  eyes.  He  then  dropped  the  hand  gently,  as  one 
would  lay  down  a  piece  of  delicate  workmanship ;  and 
turning  around,  he  said  to  Walcott : 

"Joe  go  now  cure  him  right  off,  by-and-by." 
With  this  very  definite  assurance  as  to  the  time  when 
his  miraculous  performance  was  to  be  finished,  he  left  the 
apartment,  followed  by  Walcott,  who  endeavored  to  extract 
from  him  what  he  really  proposed  to  do.  But  his  efforts 
in  that  direction  signally  failed,  for  Joe  was  as  silent  as  the 
door-post,  and  probably  would  have  been  quite  as  unable 
to  explain  the  mystery  of  his  practice,  if  he  had  tried. 
Leave  the  building,  however,  he  did,  immediately,  as  if 
to  carry  out  his  purpose,  whatever  it  might  be.  Walcott, 
in  despair,  thought  that  it  would  only  end  in  some  un 
meaning  mummery  or  Indian  exorcism ;  and  began  almost 
to  regret  that  he  had  given  consent  to  the  interference  of 
the  savage  at  all.  The  astute  Brigham  himself  was  not 
*  a  little  puzzled.  Never  hitherto  had  he  known  an  Indian 
to  become  reconciled  to  his  enemy;  and,  therefore,  was 
he  inclined  to  look  with  suspicion  upon  all  proceedings  by 
Joe  which  might  affect  Walcott  or  his  friends. 


276  SARATOGA. 

After  the  sick  room  had  been  vacated  by  the  mcn; 
Marion  again  returned  thither.  She  sat  down  by  the  side 
of  the  low  couch  where  the  unconscious  patient  lay.  The 
latter  was  moaning  in  her  half  sleep ;  but  as  Marion  took 
her  hand,  though  it  was  ever  so  gently,  she  awoke  with 
a  start. 

"Was  he  not  here  just  now?"  she  said. 

"Was  not  who  here  just  now?"  asked  Marion  as  she 
smoothed  the  pillow,  and  sought  to  compose  and  caress  the 
prostrate  girl. 

"He — Arthur,"  answered  Lucile ;  "  I  thought  he  came 
in  to  tell  me  that  that  horrid  man  should  not  come  near 
me  any  more.  Oh !  if  he  would  only  stay  by  me,  I 
should  not  be  afraid — and  I  should  be  so  happy !  Oh ! 
so  happy !" 

And  as  she  spoke  thus,  clasping  her  hands,  Marion 
observed  that,  though  her  eyes  shone  with  the  unnatural 
light  of  fever  and  delirium,  they  nevertheless  filled  with 
tears ;  showing  that  after  moments  of  agony  and  alarm, 
gentle  influences,  like  ministering  angels,  surrounded  her 
heart. 

"  Shall  I  tell  him  to  come  here  again,  dearest,  and  stay 
by  you?"  she  asked. 

"Hush!  not  for  the  world!"  she  replied;  "do  you 
know  I  have  no  right  to  have  him  by  me?  He  is  so 
good,  so  brave,  and  has  done  so  much  for  me ;  but  he 
belongs  to  Marion,  and  he  can  never  be  mine.  Never ! 
never !  But — it  is  a  great  secret,  and  you  must  not  tell — • 
I  love  him  !  Do  you  hear  ?  I  love  him !  What  do  you 
think  of  that  ?  I  could  not  tell  him  for  the  world.  He 
loves  dear  Marion  so!  Oh  !  gracious  heaven  !"  she  ex 
claimed,  as  a  wild  shriek  or  howl  was  now  suddenly  heard 


REVELATIONS.  277 

near  the  cabin,  "there  is  that  fearful  man  again!  Oh! 
call  him !  call  Arthur  or  I  shall  die  of  fear !" 

As  she  uttered  this,  she  rose  and  sat  upon  the  couch. 
Her  eye  was  unnaturally  lustrous  with  fear  and  fever  com 
bined.  Marion  herself  became  alarmed.  She  went  to 
the  door,  and  finding  Walcott  in  the  outer  apartment, 
beckoned  him  to  enter.  As  he  was  approaching,  Marion 
said  to  the  invalid  : 

"  Here  is  Mr.  Walcott,  dear ;  he  will  keep  Jacob  away, 
you  know.  You  need  not  be  afraid  now,  but  you  can  lie 
down  and  sleep  quietly  again." 

As  the  poor  girl  gazed  at  the  young  man,  a  half  con 
sciousness  seemed  to  return  to  her ;  and  while  her  face 
flushed  to  a  deeper  crimson  than  fever  had  painted  upon 
it,  she  lay  quietly  back  upon  her  couch,  still  keeping  her 
eyes  turned  upon  him,  as  if  to  make  sure  that  she  was  not 
deluded,  and  as  if  fearful  that  if  she  should  lose  him  from 
her  sight,  he  would  flit  away. 

The  case  had  become  serious.  Here  was  a  delicate  girl, 
away  from  her  immediate  relatives,  a  prey  to  an  unknown 
but  violent  febrile  attack,  and  no  medical  assistance  was 
to  be  had.  Moreover,  they  were  in  a  rude  hut,  in  the 
midst  of  an  inhospitable  wilderness,  and  could  not  com 
mand  any  of  the  comforts  to  which  she  had  been  ac 
customed,  or  even  the  commonest  appliances  of  a  sick 
room.  She  might  die  for  lack  of  timely  remedies.  Upon 
whom  then  would  the  responsibility  fall? 

But  aside  from  these  considerations,  it  may  well  be 
imagined  that  the  young  man  was  not  in  a  very  enviable 
frame  of  mind.  He  felt  himself  affected  by  deeper  emo 
tions  than  might  have  been  called  up  by  the  reflections  we 
have  mentioned.  Aside  from  this,  his  position  was  in 


278  SARATOGA. 

every  way  embarrassing.  He  had,  by  degrees,  become 
fully  conscious  of  the  true  nature  of  his  new-born  feelings 
toward  the  poor  sufferer,  who  was  thus  calling  for  his 
presence,  and  claiming  his  protection.  The  appeal  touched 
a  chord  in  the  deepest  recesses  of  his  manly  nature. 
Gallantry,  generosity,  chivalry,  admiration,  pity  and 
affection,  all  chained  him  to  the  task  of  consolation  and 
relief.  But  on  the  other  hand,  he  was  a  man  of  honor ; 
and  not  for  the  world,  by  any  consultation  of  his  own  feel 
ings  merely,  would  he  hazard  an  act  or  voluntarily  indulge 
a  thought,  which  could  be  regarded  as  a  violation  of  his 
plighted  faith. 

As  for  Marion  Belden,  she  had  been  so  astounded  by 
the  unexpected  disclosure  of  Lucile — it  had  come  upon 
her  in  the  midst  of  so  many  other  things  which  required 
her  attention — that  she  had  hardly  yet  made  up  her  mind 
whether  what  had  been  divulged  was  one  of  the  wandering 
vagaries  of  fever,  or  whether  it  lay  deeper  than  the  sudden 
attack,  and  was  one  of  its  causes. 

It  was  not  long  before  Lucile,  being  quieted  by  the 
presence  of  Walcott,  and  apparently  assured  of  his  watch 
fulness,  fell  again  into  an  uneasy  sleep.  Beside  the  couch 
also  stood  Marion ;  and  those  two  young  people  who  had 
so  long  considered  themselves  as  affianced  man  and  wife, 
were  thus  called  upon  to  watch  over  one  whose  principal 
source  of  suffering,  might  be  the  knowledge  of  that  very 
engagement.  Arthur  himself  felt  abashed  and  embarrassed. 
The  nature  of  his  thoughts  could  not,  of  course,  be  divined 
by  Marion ;  but  he  was  still  afraid,  lest  by  some  unguarded 
act,  the  deep  interest  which  he  felt  in  the  invalid  might 
become  apparent. 

Marion  had,  in  the  meanwhile,  gradually  grown  thought- 


REVELATIONS.  279 

ful.  She  knew — at  least  she  felt  sure — that  nothing 
could  have  been  done  by  Walcott  to  foster  the  love  of  her 
friend.  If  she  had  been  disposed  to  doubt  it,  the  very 
language  of  Lucile  would  have  proved  it.  It  was  also 
plain  that  Lucile  would  not  voluntarily  have  done  any 
thing  to  encourage  such  a  sentiment  in  her  own  heart. 

Still,  there  were  to  be  remembered  the  great  and  nu 
merous  perils  to  which  she  had  been  exposed,  and  from 
which  Arthur  had  rescued  her ;  and  it  was  easy  to  divine 
how  gratitude,  when  so  great  and  absorbing,  might  un 
consciously  be  changed  into  a  warmer  feeling. 
•  Marion  was,  therefore,  inclined  to  believe  that  the  few 
wild  words  of  the  sick  girl  were  something  more  than  the 
wanderings  of  a  disturbed  brain,  and  that  they  had,  in 
reality,  given  the  true  picture  of  a  loving,  but  remorseful 
heart.  Strange  to  say,  she  did  not  feel  herself  indignant  at 
the  thought.  She  imagined  that  it  was  her  compassion 
which  absorbed  all  other  emotions,  and  prevented  jealousy 
from  rising  in  rebellion  against  the  competitor  for  the  love 
of  her  betrothed.  And  then  when  she  thought  of  the 
deep  affliction  into  which  the  blameless  Lucile  was  now 
plunged,  and  of  the  long  years  of  misery  which  might 
follow  her  unhappy  passion,  she  felt  that  she  herself  could 
sacrifice  something  to  prevent  it ;  that  she  could  give  up 
the  love  and  the  plighted  faith  of  Arthur  to  secure  so 
much  good. 

And  yet,  was  this  the  feeling  of  a  genuine  love  ?  Still 
did  she  ponder  profoundly,  and  in  deep  abstraction,  till 
by  degrees,  like  the  dawn  of  a  summer  day,  the  light  of 
a  new  truth  arose  upon  her  mind ;  and  that  truth  was, 
that  she  herself  did  not  love  Arthur  ! 

There  was  joy  in  the  discovery ;  but  was  there  not  also 


280  SARATOGA. 

misery?  What  of  Arthur?  Could  his  affection  be 
thus  easily  slighted,  and  cast  off?  The  chain  which  had 
bound  the  two  was  a  double  one.  What  though  that 
which  she  supposed  to  bind  her  own  heart  was  discovered 
to  be  ruptured,  was  not  the  other  one  still  unbroken,  and 
linked  forever  to  the  heart  of  her  lover  ?  It  was  distress 
ful  to  think  of;  and  she  could  not  for  an  instant  indulge 
in  the  thought  of  sundering  the  bonds  which  allied  her 
to  him.  The  idea  of  his  affection  was  almost  a  tradition ; 
and  for  years  it  had  been  handed  down  to  her,  as  a  truth 
as  well  established  as  holy  writ.  She  did  not  doubt  it ; 
and  she  could  never  seek  to  shun  the  effect  of  it ;  and  yet, 
from  time  to  time,  did  she  detect  herself  in  the  half 
formed  wish,  that  her  last  construction  of  Lucile's  words 
might  be  the  true  one,  and  that  Arthur  might  be  won  to 
reciprocate  the  affection  which  they  implied. 

Strange  human  heart!  Whence  could  arise  such  a 
wish,  or  rather,  whence  could  come  the  remote  suggestion 
of  such  a  thought  ?  Was  no  other  image  mingled  with 
the  pictures  which  her  fancy  was  passing  before  her  mind  ? 
Yet  she  strove  to  think  how  generous  it  would  be  in  her 
self,  were  it  possible,  to  be  instrumental  in  bringing  con 
solation  to  the  desponding  heart  of  her  friend — how  noble 
to  contribute  to  her  happiness  by  a  sacrifice. 

But  on  the  other  hand,  it  might  be  all  delusion.  She 
must  wait  and  watch.  She  must  be  sure ;  but  when  once 
sure,  how  would  she  prepare  for  the  dear  Lucile  such  a 
delightful  surprise — such  a  glorious  self-sacrifice  !  Yes  ; 
she  must  watch  and  be  sure.  And  Arthur — he  must  not 
be  deceived.  She  must  learn  whether  he  could  consent 
to  such  a  new  disposition.  Ah  !  generous  and  noble  Ar 
thur  !  He  must  be  thought  of  as  well. 


REVELATIONS.  281 

So  did  the  kind  and  really  unselfish  girl  think  and 
reason.  If  any  personal  consideration  mingled  with  her 
thoughts,  she  knew  it  not. 

Meanwhile,  she  sat  down  beside  the  bed,  preparing  to 
note  each  unguarded  word  which  the  sleeper  might  whis 
per  in  her  dreams.  She  did  not  regard  herself  as  estab 
lishing  an  improper  espionage  into  the  secret  thoughts  of 
her  friend ;  but  she  rather  felt  herself  to  be  a  kind  phy 
sician  who  sets  himself  to  study  the  type  and  character  of 
the  disease  he  seeks  to  cure. 

Beckoning  Walcott  to  come  near,  she,  in  a  whisper,  re 
quested  him  to  go  out,  and  quiet  Jacob,  who,  maddened 
by  confinement,  had  become  loud  and  frantic  in  his  outcry, 
and  whose  shouts  threatened,  at  each  moment,  to  re 
awaken  the  sleeper. 

Walcott,  accordingly,  left  the  apartment  on  the  pro- 
Dosed  errand. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

THE     PRISONER. 

WE  have  omitted  to  state  that  when  the  lunatic  was 
brought  in,  no  suitable  place  had  at  first  been  found  in 
which  to  confine  him.  After  having  been  supplied  with 
some  cold  food  which  he  ravenously  devoured,  he  was 
taken  to  one  of  the  log  out-buildings,  which  was  small 
and  strong,  having  originally  been  used  to  protect  fowls 
and  the  smaller  domestic  animals,  from  the  foxes  and 
wolves,  that,  in  the  autumn,  and  at  night,  had  formerly 
much  abounded  in  this  vicinity.  Jacob's  hands  were  again 
secured  behind  him ;  and  he  was  ushered  and  fastened  into 
this  temporary  place  of  confinement. 

It  was  intended  to  send  him  away  the  next  morning  to 
some  suitable  asylum  in  the  more  thickly-settled  portions 
of  the  country.  Confinement,  whatever  its  consequences 
might  be  to  the  poor  man  himself,  was  now  deemed  to  be 
absolutely  indispensable  to  public  safety.  Meanwhile,  he 
had  proved  to  be  far  from  passive  and  tractable  except 
when  Walcott  was  at  hand  to  overawe  him.  Even  his 
influence  seemed  to  be  limited  to  the  period  of  his  im 
mediate  presence.  It  was  only  when  he  felt  himself 
beneath  the  very  eyes  of  this  master  that  he  was  disposed 
to  yield.  Away  from  him,  and  out  of  his  sight,  or  even 


THE    PRISONER.  283 

behind  his  back,  he  affected  to  scoff  at  his  authority. 
Thus  it  was  that  Walcott's  presence  was  necessary  in 
the  making  of  the  various  dispositions  we  have  men 
tioned. 

The  building  in  which  Jacob  was  confined  was  only 
about  ten  feet  square,  and  was  roughly  constructed  of 
logs.  The  door,  after  having  been  closed,  was  now 
strongly  barricaded.  Several  circular  openings  five  or 
six  inches  in  diameter,  and  as  many  feet  from  the  ground, 
answered  the  purpose  of  windows. 

No  sooner  was  the  inmate  left  to  himself  than  he  began 
to  grow  frantic,  and  to  rave  in  a  manner  unusually 
violent.  Loud  soliloquies,  shouts,  laughter,  and  even 
screams  followed  close  upon  each  other,  and  formed  a 
wild  chorus  of  harsh  and  incoherent  sounds,  poured  tu- 
multuously  forth  upon  the  still  night. 

When  Walcott  went  out  for  the  purpose  of  endeavoring 
to  quiet  the  uproar,  he  carried  a  torch.  The  moment  he 
stood  at  the  door  and  so  long  as  his  voice  was  heard  out 
side  of  the  little  building,  all  within  was  still.  After 
remaining  there  for  some  time  he  returned  toward  the 
main  house ;  but  no  sooner  was  he  out  of  hearing  than  the 
dissonant  outcry  was  renewed.  He  tried  the  effect  of  his 
presence  and  absence  several  times ;  and  finding,  at  length, 
that  he  could  do  nothing  effectual  to  prevent  the  annoy 
ance,  he  gave  up  the  attempt,  regretting  that  some  other 
disposition  had  not  been  made,  and  half  inclined  to  try  a 
change,  as  it  was.  But,  meanwhile,  he  concluded  to 
wait,  partly  in  the  hope  that  the  tired  girl  would  become 
accustomed  to  the  noise,  and  so  disregard  it ;  and  partly, 
that  as  the  night  grew  on,  the  maniac  would  himself  weary 
of  excitement,  and  gradually  fall  asleep. 


284  SARATOGA. 

Very  different  was  the  scene  where  the  young  man 
stood,  from  that  which,  at  the  same  moment,  might  have 
been  observed  at  the  tent  near  the  Rock  Spring.  A 
bright  light  illuminated  the  interior,  and  shone  out  through 
the  openings,  upon  the  dark  green  leaves  of  the  surround 
ing  forest,  while  the  sound  of  a  violin,  and  voices  mingling 
in  merry  conversation  and  in  laughter,  indicated  the  kind 
and  degree  of  amusement  which  was  there  taking  place. 

In  obtaining  a  view  of  those  who  were  participants  in 
this  primitive  festivity,  we  should  witness  a  simplicity  of 
manner,  and  a  style  and  material  of  dress,  quite  different, 
it  may  be  safely  asserted,  from  any  thing  seen  on  the  same 
spot  in  our  days.  It  is  not,  however,  our  purpose  to  enter 
upon  a  description  of  the  personal  appearance  of  those 
who  composed  the  assemblage,  for  it  would  be  quite 
irrelevant  to  our  present  purpose.  We  merely  wish  to 
state  that  the  enjoyment  was  hearty — that  the  young 
ladies  had  cheeks  as  bright,  forms  as  lithe  and  pleasing, 
and  eyes  as  soft  and  bewitching,  as  can  be  found  at  any 
modern  fashionable  soiree,  notwithstanding  some  of  them 
may  have  been  our  grandmothers,  and  their  customs  and 
costumes  are  now,  alas !  almost  a  century  out  of  date ! 
But  then  they  were  neither  old  or  unfashionable,  and 
gayety  and  happiness  filled  their  young  hearts  as  fully  and 
exclusively  as  possible.  For  the  moment,  they  seemed  to 
entertain  no  thought  of  sadness  or  of  misfortune ;  but  to 
give  themselves  up  to  the  innocent  amusements  and  pleas 
ures  of  the  hour. 

Still,  amid  the  excitement  of  the  dancing,  and  the 
sound  of  the  music  which  regulated  it,  amid  the  low  hum 
of  conversation,  and  the  occasional  burst  of  merry  laugh 
ter,  could  be  heard,  now  and  then,  the  strange  shouts 


THE    PRISONER.  285 

with  which  the  maniac  continued  to  beguile  his  confine 
ment. 

"  What  is  it?  What  can  it  be?"  were  questions  which, 
after  a  while,  began  to  be  asked.  One  would  suggest,  in 
reply,  that  it  might  be  a  bear  in  the  neighboring  brush, 
or  some  panther,  disturbed  in  his  prowling  by  the  sight 
of  such  an  unusual  light  as  now  shone  in  the  tent. 
Another  hinted  it  might  be  some  drunken  reveler  at  the 
cabin  on  the  upper  bank,  or  some  Indian  in  the  village, 
beside  himself  from  the  use  of  "  fire  water." 

Still  there  was  no  satisfactory  solution.  When,  oc 
casionally,  some  one  would  pause  to  listen,  the  noiso 
was  discovered  to  be  prolonged,  continuous,  persistent. 
Something  unnatural  or  supernatural  seemed  to  be  in  it ; 
so  that  to  the  timid,  even  amid  that  collection  of  young 
hearts  and  thoughtless  heads,  it  was  a  source  of  un 
easiness. 

Floyd  himself  had  been  among  the  first  to  notice  it,  but, 
from  constitutional  indifference,  as  well  as  from  a  knowl 
edge  that  they  were  not  far  from  a  considerable  collection 
of  Indian  habitations,  he  gave  the  subject  but  little 
thought.  In  the  course  of  the  evening,  however,  as 
it  still  was  heard  without  abatement,  and  as  one  con 
tinued  uselessly  to  question  another,  so  that  a  general 
observation  was  drawn  to  the  unexplained  circumstance, 
he  determined  to  go  up  the  slope  and  ascertain  for  him 
self  the  cause  of  so  much  outcry.  He  was,  in  addition, 
it  must  be  confessed,  a  little  interested  to  know  how  the 
invalid  was  faring,  and  especially  was  he  pleased  at  any 
pretext  which  might  afford  him  an  opportunity  of  seeing 
Marion  again.  Ho  was  not  yet  aware  that  Walcott  had 
returned. 


286  SARATOGA. 

He  found  the  old  colonel  pacing  the  floor  of  the  outward 
apartment  alone. 

"  Good  evening,  Dick,"  said  the  latter  as  Floyd  came 
in :  "it  is  kind  of  you  to  come  up  to  us  in  our  trouble, 
with  all  the  amusement  you  have  down  at  the  tent. 
Walcott  has  got  back,  and  he  and  Marion  are  doing  what 
they  can  to  keep  the  poor  girl  quiet.  She  raves  much,  I 
am  told." 

"  Pray,  colonel,"  said  Floyd,  "  what  is  the  noise  I  hear 
outside  ?  It  has  been  going  on  this  hour,  and  we  have 
been  a  little  puzzled  to  make  it  out." 

"  That  is  the  poor  crazy  creature  they  caught  during 
the  day ;  and,  as  there  was  no  other  secure  place  in  which 
to  confine  him,  they  placed  him  in  an  out-building  hard 
by ;  but  he  seems  to  be  very  uneasy  at  the  restraint  put 
upon  him." 

Walcott,  meanwhile,  had  returned  to  the  house,  and 
had  again  been  called  into  the  inner  room,  where  his  mere 
presence  seemed  to  exercise  a  soothing  influence  upon  the 
invalid. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

OLD    TIES    AND    NEW    FEELINGS. 

IT  is,  perhaps,  needless  to  say,  that  what  Marion  had 
heard  from  the  lips  of  the  sleeper  during  the  absence  of 
Walcott,  and  during  a  momentary  access  of  mental  aberra 
tion  to  the  sick  girl,  had  only  gone  to  confirm  the  suspicion 
she  had  conceived.  It  now  occurred  to  her  that  it  might 
be  desirable  that  he  should  also  learn  something  of  what 
was  passing  in  the  mind  of  the  sleeper.  Especially,  did 
she  wish  to  observe  the  efiect  which  any  communication 
of  that  nature  would  produce  upon  him.  For  this  pur 
pose  she  was  not  compelled  to  wait  long ;  for  hardly  had 
the  young  man  seated  himself  by  the  side  of  the  couch, 
before  Lucile  began  again  to  utter  some  incoherent  words. 
In  a  short  time,  what  she  said  became  intelligible ;  and 
thoughts  and  sentiments  escaped  from  her  fevered  lips, 
which  in  a  moment  of  full  consciousness,  she  would  sooner 
have  died  than  have  uttered. 

While  Walcott,  therefore,  in  being  a  listener,  expected 
to  hear  the  mere  disconnected  meanings  of  pain  and  fever, 
what  was  his  confusion  and  surprise,  to  hear  instead,  the 
plain  avowal  of  the  love  for  him  which  the  poor  girl 
cherished  in  her  heart.  It  came  upon  him  so  unexpectedly, 
and  seemed  to  pour  upon  his  mind  such  a  flood  of  dazzling 


288  SARATOGA. 

light,  that  he  felt  like  a  prisoner  suddenly  transported 
from  a  dungeon  to  the  open  day.  The  effulgence  was 
painful  even.  He  felt  staggered,  confused.  The  intelli 
gence  smote  him  like  a  sword  thrust,  so  bright  and  so 
lightning-like  had  it  seemed  in  penetrating  his  soul.  For 
the  moment,  he  seemed  unable  to  endure  the  intensity  of 
it.  He  even  turned  pale,  and  felt  weak  and  faint,  as  the 
tell-tale  blood  forsook  his  cheek  and  fled  to  his  heart. 

"Arthur!  Arthur!"  exclaimed  Marion,  starting  up  in 
alarm !  "  what  has  happened,  what  is  the  matter  with 
you?" 

"  Nothing,"  said  he,  "  at  least — not  much.  I  believe 
I  must  be  a  little  unwell  myself.  Fatigue,  perhaps." 

We  have  said  that  the  effect  of  the  disclosure  upon 
Walcott  was  painful.  It  was  so  in  the  extreme.  His  own 
attachment,  and  the  suffering  it  might  cause  him  were  as 
nothing,  when  counted  against  his  plighted  faith  to  Marion. 
But  now  that  the  feelings,  and  possibly  the  permanent 
happiness  of  another  were  concerned,  the  case  had  become 
different.  How  could  he,  by  adhering  to  his  vow,  crush 
the  hopes,  and  sear  the  heart  of  such  a  being  as  Lucile  ? 
It  was  a  sense  of  the  suffering  which,  as  he  imagined, 
must  result  from  whatever  course  he  might  pursue,  that 
most  oppressed  and  weighed  upon  him  for  the  moment. 
Yet  with  this  pang,  sharp  as  it  was,  came  also  a  balm. 
The  poison  of  the  new  hope,  if  poison  it  was,  was  still 
most  sweet  and  tempting.  Had  he,  at  this  period  of  his 
life,  thought  as  to  whose  love,  of  all  others  in  the  wide 
world,  he  would  most  have  coveted,  his  choice  would  have 
fallen  upon  the  one  whose  actual  love  was  thus,  in  the 
unconscious  voice  of  sleep,  tendered  to  him. 

At  that  time,  however,  he  would  listen  to  no  more. 


OLD    TIES    AND    NEW    FEELINGS.         289 

The  utterance  of  sentiments  in  which  he  was  so  deeply 
concerned  began  to  affect  him  with  a  sympathy  too  pain 
ful  to  be  borne.  Moreover  by  thus  remaining,  he  seemed 
to  be  obtaining  by  indirection  and  espial,  a  knowledge 
which  could  not  well  come  to  him  openly.  Such  an  act 
would  therefore  be  apparent  treachery  to  the  sleeper.  He 
rose  to  go. 

"  It  is  better,"  he  said,  u  that  I  should  not  remain  any 
longer  here,  I  think.  She  is  ignorant  of  what  she  is  say 
ing,  and  probably  in  her  delirium,  she  has  from  gratitude, 
mingled  my  name  with  others  which  she  cherishes  more 
nearly." 

Marion  had  watched  all  in  silence.  She  now  felt  per 
suaded  that  Walcott,  at  the  least,  had  become  deeply 
interested  in  the  fate  of  Lucile ;  and  judging  of  the  attrac 
tions  which  might  operate  upon  him  in  that  direction,  she 
did  not  find  it  very  difficult  to  believe  that  his  admiration 
must  be  as  strong  as  her  own.  The  conviction  fast  gained 
upon  her,  that,  without  knowing  it,  the  feelings  of  each 
had  got  to  be  greatly  concerned  in  the  affair.  And  what 
then  ?  The  plain  truth — if  such  it  was — might  to  her  be 
a  little  harsh,  perhaps  a  little  painful.  Had  she  herself 
been  so  incapable  of  inspiring  this  young  man  with  any 
other  feelings  than  those  of  fraternal  esteem  ? 

Meanwhile  we  have  left  unanswered  the  half  embar 
rassed  and  awkward  remark  of  Walcott,  as  he  arose  to 
depart — not  that  Marion  did  not  reply  to  it ;  but  that  wo 
have  been  compelled  to  pause  and  record  some  of  the 
thoughts  which  passed  through  her  mind. 

"  Whether  she  raves  or  not,  Arthur,"  she  had  calmly 
replied ;  "you  know  that  she  has  desired  that  you  should 
not  be  absent — at  least  not  very  far.  Besides,  do  not  go, 
19 


290  SARATOGA. 

for  I  shall  want — I  think  I  shall  want,  some  frank  con 
versation  with  you  myself  before  long.     I  have  heard  and  « 
seen  enough  to  make  me  painfully  anxious." 

The  young  man  paused — did  not  leave  the  room,  but 
turning  to  her  he  said, 

"  My  dear  and  gentle  Marion,  whatever  you  have  to 
say,  you  will  find  me  as  sincere  and  loyal  as  when  our 
hands  were  first  plighted ;  as  sincere  and  truthful  to  you, 
as  when  our  earthly  hopes  were  first  by  compact  joined 
together." 

"  I  knew  you  would  be  so,  Arthur,"  she  said,  her  eyes 
filling  with  tears,  as,  taking  a  chair  she  sat  down  near 
him.  "  I  knew  it  would  be  so,  and  therefore  come  to  you 
above  all  others,  first.  I  need  hardly  tell  you  now  that  the 
dear  girl  who  suffers  there  loves  you — loves  you  deeply. 
I  found  it  out  as  you  did — and — and  if  I  must  say  it,  I 
have  almost  wished  that  her  love  might  be  returned." 

All  this  was  said  with  much  hesitation,  and  with  many 
pauses,  and  much  embarrassment ;  but  still  the  frank  and 
generous  girl  was  determined  to  say  all. 

"Marion,"  he  replied,  "you  know  that  my  faith  is 
pledged  to  you ;  and  I  do  assure  you  that  I  have  never 
willingly  or  consciously  swerved  from  the  duty  which 
such  an  obligation  imposes." 

"  Duty,  Arthur,  is  a  cold  word  to  use  as  between  us; 
and  surely  it  should  not  have  been  felt  as  an  obligation, 
nor  should  you  have  looked  upon  it  as  imposing  any  thing 
which  your  own  feelings  did  not  spontaneously  dictate." 

"And  what  then?"  he  asked,  in  doubt  what  construc 
tion  to  put  upon  her  words,  while  he  recollected  with  some 
confusion  that  his  own  language  was  calculated  to  unvail 
his  sentiments  too  plainly. 


OLD    TIBS    AND    NEW    FEELINGS.        291 

"  What  then  ?"  said  she.  "  Why,  you  could  never  have 
been  attached  to  me  in  good,  downright  earnest ;  and  you 
have  been  properly  punished.  You  do  not  now  deserve 
to  be  loved  by  such  a  one  as  Lucile.  Perhaps  you  will 
also  think  that  her  regard  will  impose  upon  you  some 
weighty  and  irksome  obligation?" 

Insensibly,  thus  had  the  conversation  taken  such  a  turn 
as  to  seem  as  if  they  were  discussing  not  the  relations  be 
tween  themselves,  but  a  well  understood  attachment  be- 
tweem  the  young  man  and  Lucile.  It  was  not  without 
difficulty  that  he  could  contemplate  himself  transferred  to 
this  new  position.  He  could  scarcely  believe  his  senses. 
He  looked  in  the  countenance  of  Marion,  to  discover 
whether  her  words  covered  an  ill-timed  jest,  or  a  re 
proaching  sarcasm.  He  did  not  find  indications  of  either 
the  one  or  the  other. 

It  was  true  that  the  expression  of  her  features  was  half 
playful,  yet  it  was  also  half  tearful.  Whatever  else  she 
might  feel,  she  certainly  felt  earnestness.  She  rejoiced 
in  the  generous  action  which  she  supposed  herself  to  be 
doing;  and  yet,  womanlike,  half  regretted  the  sacrifice 
she  made.  Was  another  to  gain  and  possess  the  confi 
dence  of  the  man  to  whom  she  had  been  so  long  bound  by 
so  many  ties  ?  All  the  afiections  are  jealous,  the  weakest 
as  well  as  the  strongest. 

"  But  Marion,"  replied  he,  after  a  long  pause,  "I  will 
not  permit  you  to  make  this  change  on  my  account.  I 
am  sure  there  may  be  some  misconception  in  the  whole 
business." 

"  You  shall  promise  me  one  thing,"  said  she,  interrupt 
ing  him:  "if  she"  (pointing  to  Lucile)  "does  not  love 
you,  you  shall  marry  me  after  all.  What  do  you  say  to 


292  SARATOGA. 

that?"  she  continued,  half  laughing  through  her 
tears. 

"  I  promise  you  any  thing  you  ask,  dear  Marion,"  re 
plied  the  young  man,  appreciating  with  a  heart  full  of 
emotion,  all  the  high-minded  generosity  there  was  in  her 
act. 

Does  the  reader  think  the  whole  circumstance  unnatu 
ral  and  incredible  ?  We  affirm  that  the  human  heart  is  a 
profound  mystery,  made  up  in  its  outward  developments, 
of  seeming  paradoxes  and  contradictions. 

And  yet,  in  this  particular  case,  who  can  tell  ?  May 
there  not  have  been  some  new-born  emotion  in  Marion's 
heart,  and  rising  like  a  summer  morning  upon  the  horizon 
of  her  intelligence,  to  send  its  joyous  light  through  all 
the  recesses  of  her  being  ?  What  music  of  a  great  joy 
yet  unseen,  may  have  been  resounding,  in  advance,  in 
the  inmost  chambers  of  her  soul  ?  Influences  she  knew 
not  of,  may  have  guided  her  thoughts  and  determined  her 
wishes,  as  guardian  angels  were  once  thought  to  guide  the 
unconscious  footsteps  of  men. 

But  now  the  hour  was  waxing  late.  It  was  time  that 
some  final  dispositions  for  the  night  be  made.  The  in 
valid,  for  the  *moment,  was  sleeping  quietly,  all  uncon 
scious  of  the  momentous  issues  affecting  her  fate  which 
had  thus  been  disposed  of.  Before  leaving  the  room,  Wal- 
cott,  with  much  feeling,  raised  to  his  lips  the  hand  which 
Marion  had  extended  to  him,  in  token  of  continued  re 
gard.  As  he  went  forth,  therefore,  his  countenance  was 
flushed,  and  his  mind  was  disturbed  with  many  conflicting 
emotions. 

It  will  be  recollected  that  for  a  great  portion  of  the  ticffla 
taken  up  during  the  above  interview,  Floyd  and  Coloml 


OLD    TIES    AND    NEW    FEELINGS.        293 

Belden  had  been  engaged  in  conversation  in  the  outer 
room. 

In  the  confusion  which  had  ensued  after  the  return  of 
Walcott  with  the  maniac  in  custody,  he  and  Floyd  had 
not  met.  He  was,  therefore,  taken  completely  by  sur 
prise  to  find  the  latter  there,  insomuch  that  he  stopped 
short,  exclaiming  almost  unconsciously : 

"  Major  Floyd !" 

"Arthur  Walcott!"  replied  the  other,  almost  equally 
surprised  on  the  instant,  although  he  knew  him  to  be  in 
the  house. 

After  a  few  moments'  delay,  however,  Floyd  came 
frankly  forward,  extending  his  hand,  and  saying : 

"  I  have  to  beg  pardon  for  some  old  passages  between 
us.  I  feel  satisfied  that  I  was  entirely  in  the  wrong,  and 
trust  that  you  will  receive  my  regrets  in  all  sincerity  and 
good  faith  as  they  are  expressed." 

"With  all  my  heart,  sir,"  quickly  replied  Walcott. 
"And  hereafter  I  hope  we  shall  know  each  other  bet 
ter  than  to  conceive  mutual  mistakes  so  easily." 

During  this  brief  colloquy  Marion  had  stood  in  the 
door- way,  at  first  anxious  as  to  the  issue,  but  afterward 
gratified  beyond  expression  at  the  generous  initiative 
taken  by  Floyd ;  and  when  she  saw  the  two  young  men 
shaking  hands  cordially  together,  her  blush  of  trepidation 
became  one  of  happiness. 

As  soon  as  the  first  civilities  were  passed,  Walcott 
begged  to  be  excused  for  a  few  moments  as  he  wished  to 
look  a  little  to  the  situation  of  his  prisoner.  For  this 
purpose  he  went  out ;  but  he  had  hardly  moved  from  the 
door  before  he  saw  standing  unexpectedly  before  him 
the  dusky  form  of  Joe,  who,  it  seems,  was  just  returning. 


294  SARATOGA. 

"  Eh,  Joe,  is  that  you  ?"  said  Walcott  as  he  distin 
guished  him  in  the  darkness. 

"Got  him,  cap'n,"  laconically  answered  the  savage. 

" Got  what?"  asked  Walcott. 

"Medicine — cure  pretty  squaw,  now — right  off — by'm 
by,"  answered  the  other. 

"  Let  us  see  what  it  is,"  said  Walcott,  turning  quickly 
back  to  the  house. 

The  savage  now  exhibited  to  the  inmates  of  the  place 
a  collection  of  plants  for  which,  it  would  seem,  he  had 
been  in  search. 

"What  good  will  these  do,  and  how  are  we  to  use 
them?"  asked  Colonel  Belden,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

"Do  good,  eh?  Cure  squaw,  that  all,"  said  Joe,  an 
swering  one  of  the  questions. 

"But  how  shall  we  use  them,  I  ask?"  repeated  the 
colonel. 

"  Bile  'em — make,  what  you  call  him,  tea?"  said  the 
Indian;  "take  big  drink — be  well  in  mornin'." 

The  directions,  then,  were  plain  enough ;  but  who  was 
to  guaranty  that  the  promised  results  would  ensue? 
How  were  they  to  know  that  the  consequences,  instead 
of  being  favorable,  might  not  be  dangerous  or  fatal  ? 
This  was  the  important  question.  And  then  the  pre 
scription  was  recommended  by  a  more  than  half  savage — 
by  one  who  had  but  recently  manifested  a  most  hostile 
disposition  toward  one  of  the  persons  most  deeply  concerned 
in  the  result.  The  case  was  certainly  critical.  There 
was  a  well-grounded  apprehension  that  the  remedy  might 
be  worse  than  the  disease ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  as  if 
to  spur  them  on  to  some  measures  of  relief,  however 
desperate,  the  poor  girl  was  hourly  yielding  to  an 


OLD    TIES    AND    NEW    PEELINGS.         295 

unknown  fever,  more  and  more  violent  in  its  symp 
toms. 

Brigham,  who  was  called  in  to  be  advised  with,  and 
who  was  supposed  to  be  best  acquainted,  not  only  with 
the  temper  and  intentions  of  Joe,  but  with  the  character 
of  Indian  remedies,  was  decidedly  opposed  to  running  the 
hazard  of  trying  the  supposed  cure,  notwithstanding  the 
kind  of  voucher  which  Catfoot  had  given  him  for  Joe's 
uprightness  of  purpose. 

Walcott  himself,  being  free  from  suspicion,  and  half 
doubting  the  story  about  the  Indian's  late  designs  upon 
himself,  was,  on  the  other  hand,  inclined  to  try  the  effect 
of  the  decoction.  His  knowledge  of  the  medicinal  virtues 
of  plants  was  not  extensive ;  but,  in  the  present  case,  it  was 
sufficient  to  enable  him  to  feel  very  confident  that  none  of 
those  recommended  were  poisonous ;  and  he  thought  that, 
at  the  worst,  they  would  be  harmless.  He  had,  likewise, 
much  faith  in  the  skill,  with  which  the  simple  inhabitants 
of  the  woods  applied  the  means  of  cure  within  their  reach. 
He  had  often,  in  his  own  experience,  had  occasion  to  wit 
ness  their  beneficial  effects.  Moreover,  he  did  not  sup 
pose  it  possible  that  any  one  could  harbor  an  evil  purpose 
against  a  person  as  innocent  as  Lucile.  He  reasoned  of 
others,  from  what  he  felt  himself. 

In  regard  to  the  precise  character  and  names  of  the 
plants  produced,  no  one  present  was  sufficiently  an  herb 
alist,  or  botanist,  to  say  much.  Some  of  them  were  un 
familiar  even  to  the  eyes  of  Brigham. 

After  a  brief  discussion  as  to  the  course  to  be  pursued, 
Colonel  Belden  asked : 

"  What  if  this  medicine  should  kill  the  young  lady, 
Joe  ?  What  should  we  do  to  you  then  ?" 


296  SARATOGA. 

"Joe  here,  kill  him,  that  all,"  was  the  reply. 

There  was  something  so  confident  in  his  manner  that  it 
had  the  effect  of  inspiring  the  others  with  a  little  hope, 
if  not  with  a  decided  faith ;  so  that  it  was  finally  deter 
mined  that  the  decoction  should  be  prepared  and  ad 
ministered. 

The  task  was,  therefore,  immediately  set  about,  and  it 
was  not  long  before,  for  good  or  for  ill,  the  potion  was  in 
readiness  and  swallowed  by  the  invalid. 

Much  to  the  gratification  of  all,  shortly  afterward  she 
became  quiet  and  sank  into  a  deep  sleep. 

Floyd  now  took  his  leave,  promising  to  return  the  next 
morning  after  having  seen  his  own  party  set  out,  as  they 
intended  to  do,  at  an  early  hour,  on  their  return  to 
Schuyler'a. 


tHAPTEB    XXVII. 

THE    LUNATIC'S   ESCAPE. 

IN  a  short  time  after  Floyd's  departure,  all  within  and 
without  Brigham's  cabin  became  comparatively  quiet. 
The  music  from  the  distant  tent  could  no  longer  be  heard. 
Even  the  maniac  had  lapsed  into  silence ;  and  it  was  sup 
posed  that  nature  and  fatigue  had  at  last  surmounted  the 
"seven  devils"  by  which  he  seemed  to  be  possessed. 

The  small  building  where  he  was  confined,  was,  as  we 
have  said,  detached  from  the  main  house,  and  stood  quite 
alone.  Its  general  character  has  been  already  mentioned. 
It  may,  however,  be  added  that  its  roof  was  composed  of 
thick  timbers,  stretched  across  the  top  sufficiently  near 
each  other  to  allow  a  thatch  of  straw  to  be  laid  over  all. 
It  was  supposed  that  these  stringers  were  too  close  to 
gether  to  enable  a  man  to  pass  up  between  them.  The 
whole  erection,  however,  was  low;  and  a  person  could 
nearly  reach  the  roof  when  standing  beneath  the  lowest 
part. 

In  the  arrangements  made  for  the  night,  M'Carty  and 
Joe  (at  his  own  desire)  were  to  act  as  sentinels  upon  the 
place  of  confinement.  It  was  not  known  what  attempt  at 
violence  or  escape  might  be  made  in  the  darkness ;  and  it 
was  therefore  thought  not  unadvisable  to  have  a  sufficient 
force  at  haud. 


298  SARATOGA. 

Waloott  himself,  though  now  suffering  much  from 
fatigue,  and  his  continued  exertions  and  watchings,  could 
not  immediately  compose  his  mind  so  as  to  get  that  sleep 
and  rest  which  he  so  much  needed.  Perhaps  the  very 
excess  of  his  fatigue  served  to  keep  alive  his  excitement, 
and  make  him  wakeful.  To  quiet  his  nerves,  he  even 
went  forth  into  the  open  air,  and  strolled  for  a  while 
among  the  trees,  inhaling  the  fresh  atmosphere,  and  en 
joying  the  wide-spread  stillness  which  prevailed.  The 
fragrant  air,  and  the  repose  of  all  nature  around  him, 
served  at  once  to  cool  his  blood,  and  to  soothe  his  excited 
feelings. 

After  a  time,  he  went  back  into  the  house,  where  he 
found  every  body  asleep  before  him.  He  soon  fell  into  a 
doze  himself,  and  by  degrees,  became  entirely  lost  in  for- 
getfulness. 

As  the  night  wore  on,  the  two  watchmen  outside  occu 
pied  themselves  sometimes  in  such  scanty  discourse  as 
could  be  maintained  with  a  person  of  Joe's  taciturn  hab 
its.  In  fact,  whatever  conversation  took  place  between 
them  was  almost  entirely  kept  up  by  M'Carty,  who  was 
as  talkative  as  the  other  was  silent.  Nevertheless,  the 
lack  of  responses,  like  the  lack  of  applause  to  an  orator, 
rendered  his  discourse  unsatisfactory  to  himself,  and  long 
periods  of  silence  frequently  occurred. 

Sometimes,  like  true  sentinels,  they  paced  to  and  fro, 
before  the  entrance  to  the  temporary  jail  they  were  set  to 
guard.  Their  task,  to  all  appearance,  was  likely  to  be  an 
easy  one,  for  the  prisoner  had,  at  length,  become  quiet, 
and  had  fallen  asleep,  as  they  thought,  without  making 
any  serious  effort  to  escape.  They  began '  to  congratulate 
themselves  that  they  should  not  hear  of  him  again  till 


THE  LUNATIC'S  ESCAPE.  299 

daylight  should  call  forth  his  hoarse  and  ill-omened  croak, 
as  it  would  the  musical  voices  of  the  birds. 

Sometime  after  midnight,  however,  when  every  thing 
was  hushed  in  the  most  profound  stillness,  the  quick  ear 
of  the  savage  detected  a  low  and  peculiar  sound,  coming 
from  the  place  where  the  prisoner  was  confined.  It  was 
not  like  the  noise  of  one  moving  about,  or  attempting  to 
remove  any  obstacles,  or  testing  the  strength  of  the  fast 
enings.  It  was  rather  a  regular  sound,  like  that  of  a 
saw,  but  more  smooth  and  muffled,  and  without  its  harsh 
ness. 

Joe  immediately  called  the  attention  of  his  companion 
to  the  circumstance.  Neither  of  them  could  tell  from 
what  the  noise  originated,  or  what  it  might  import.  Their 
observance  of  it  did  not  seem  to  have  any  effect  upon  it. 
If  Jacob  was  busy  at  any  thing,  he  did  not  appear  to  care 
a  rush  whether  they  heard  him  or  not.  Meanwhile,  the 
sound  gradually  increased  in  rapidity  and  loudness.  The 
two  men  moved  hastily  about  the  small  building,  as  if  se 
curely  to  invest  it  on  all  sides,  and  to  be  in  a  better  situa 
tion  to  discover  the  cause  of  the  disturbance.  They  went 
everywhere,  and  listened  at  all  points,  but  to  no  purpose. 
They  well  knew  that  Jacob  could,  when  left  to  himself, 
without  much  difficulty,  relieve  his  hands  and  arms  from 
the  ligatures  which  bound  them ;  and  it  was  not  doubted 
that  in  the  morning  all  his  limbs  would  be  as  free  as  ever. 
His  immense  strength  and  insensibility  to  pain  made  any 
movement  by  him  in  the  darkness,  all  the  more  noticeable 
and  dangerous. 

At  length,  the  Indian  found  a  place  where  there  was  a 
considerable  opening  between  the  timbers,  and  where  he 
could  hear  what  was  going  on  within,  more  distinctly  than 


300  SARATOGA. 

at  any  other  point.  Here  he  established  himself  with 
aboriginal  patience  and  determination,  as  it  promised  to 
be  the  most  probable  place  at  which  to  solve  the  mystery 
of  the  unaccountable  noise.  Not  only  did  he  listen,  but 
every  moment  or  so,  he  applied  his  eye  to  the  aperture  in 
order  to  make  any  discovery  which  might  be  possible  to 
the  sense  of  sight. 

After  a  few  moments  this  vigilance  was  rewarded  by 
his  noticing  occasional  sparks  of  fire  emitted  from  a  cer 
tain  point  within  the  building.  The  truth  now  flashed  at 
once  upon  his  mind;  and  he  conjectured  rightly  that 
Jacob  was  endeavoring  to  strike  a  light  by  a  well  known 
method  in  use  among  the  savages,  that  is  to  say,  by  fric 
tion. 

Curious,  however,  to  learn  what  could  be  the  object  of 
it,  the  two  men  outside  continued  to  listen  and  watch  in 
silence.  It  was  not  more  than  a  minute  afterward,  when, 
instead  of  occasional  sparks,  they  saw  a  dull,  blue  flame 
rising  from  among  some  dry  leaves  upon  the  ground.  The 
light  emitted  from  this,  though  at  first  but  faint,  soon 
increased  sufficiently  to  enable  them  to  observe  all  the 
movements  of  their  prisoner.  Their  curiosity  was  mean 
while,  in  no  respect  diminished.  What  was  to  be  the 
purpose  of  the  midnight  illumination  they  could  not  con 
jecture.  Besides,  the  material  for  maintaining  it  was 
extremely  limited  in  quantity.  The  blaze  barely  sufficed 
to  make  visible  the  sides  of  the  small  quadrangle,  and  as 
the  sticks  and  rubbish  on  which  it  fed  would  soon  be  ex 
hausted,  the  purpose  for  which  it  had  been  kindled  must 
be  accomplished  soon,  if  at  all. 

It  was  a  curious  spectacle  which  they  witnessed.  The 
light  from  that  faint  fire  of  leaves  striking  upon  the 


THE  LUNATIC'S  ESCAPE.  301 

maniac's  grim  and  uncouth  features,  from  below,  like  the 
foot-lights  of  a  theater  upon  the  countenance  of  a  player, 
showed  his  wild  eyes  glittering  with  cunning  and  ferocity ; 
while  a  smile,  half  of  fatuity  and  half  of  diabolical  mis 
chief,  was  visible  upon  the  lower  portion  of  his  face.  He 
seemed  like  an  untamed  beast  prowling  in  his  lair,  and 
watching  an  opportunity  for  making  his  escape  or  doing 
some  act  of  violence. 

Meanwhile  the  two  men,  who  so  closely  overlooked  hia 
proceedings,  had  not  long  to  wait  before  they  learned  the 
meaning  of  all  these  preparations ;  for  no  sooner  had  he 
procured  fire  enough  to  ignite  the  end  of  a  small  dry  stick, 
than  he  raised  it  above  his  head  like  a  torch,  and  in  a 
twinkling,  set  fire  to  the  straw  thatch  of  the  roof.  The 
Indian  uttered  an  emphatic  "ugh!"  of  astonishment,  and 
rushed  with  all  his  speed  toward  the  main  cabin  in  order 
to  waken  Walcott,  to  get  his  directions  and  assistance  in 
the  coming  crisis.  For  this,  instructions  had  been  already 
given  them.  The  latter  was,  accordingly,  roused  from  a 
deep  sleep  into  which  he  had  fallen,  by  a  rough  shake  of 
the  shoulder ;  when,  looking  up,  he  saw  the  swarthy  fea  - 
tures  of  Joe  bending  over  him.  He  sprang  up  at  once. 

"  Come,"  said  Joe,  "come  quick.     Jake  burn  house." 

At  that  moment  they  heard  the  wild,  hoarse  laugh  of 
the  lunatic  from  without,  pealing  through  the  still  night 
air,  as  loud  as  a  trumpet,  and  as  discordant  and  startling 
as  a  fire  alarm.  The  two  men  rushed  forth  as  speedily 
as  possible.  They  found  the  roof  of  the  little  building 
already  in  a  full  blaze.  Inside  of  it,  Jacob  was  apparently 
capering  and  shouting  with  might  and  main,  in  a  state  of 
the  highest  glee  at  what  he  had  done. 

Not  a  moment  was  to  be  lost,     It  was  evident  that  the 


302  SARATOGA. 

poor  wretch  would  soon  be  roasted  alive  where  he  was. 
They  found  M'Carty  already  hammering  away  at  the 
fastenings  of  the  door,  humanely  determined  to  let  the 
prisoner  loose  at  all  hazards.  He  was  now  joined  in  his 
efforts  by  the  others.  Overhead  the  fire  crackled  and 
blazed  away  with  momentarily  increasing  heat  and  vio 
lence.  The  merriment  of  the  inmate  continued  unabated. 
As  always  happens  under  such  circumstances,  the  very 
haste  of  the  men  to  get  the  door  open,  retarded  their 
movements.  They  tore  away  the  cross-bars  one  after 
another,  almost  in  despair  of  being  able  to  succeed  in  time. 
They  could  see  flakes  of  burning  straw  already  falling  from 
the  roof  within  the  building ;  and  sometimes  around  or 
upon  the  dancing  fiend,  like  a  shower  of  shooting  stars 
around  a  fallen  Lucifer. 

Just  at  the  instant  when  they  had  got  the  door  partially 
cleared  away,  and  so  suddenly  that  the  act  was  entirely 
unanticipated,  the  maniac  made  one  furious  bound  at  the 
opening,  burst  it  through  with  as  much  apparent  ease  as 
that  with  which  a  cannon  ball  breaks  a  window-sash ;  and 
overturning  all  who  stood  in  his  way,  he  rushed  forth,  and 
with  wild  screams  of  laughter,  disappeared  in  the  darkness. 

All  this  was  done  in  much  less  time  than  it  could  be 
told  in.  The  three  men,  who  had  been  utterly  confounded 
or  overset  by  this  sudden  sortie,  which  came  upon  them 
more  like  an  explosion  than  the  act  of  a  human  being,  now 
looked  at  each  other  in  astonishment.  Walcott  alone 
made  a  start  as  if  in  pursuit,  but  immediately  recollected 
the  uselessness  of  such  an  attempt  at  that  time,  and 
stopped. 

All  this  noise  and  uproar  had  awakened  the  other  occu 
pants  of  the  larger  cabin.  Brigham  now  came  forth  fol- 


THB-LUNATIC'S    ESCAPE.  303 

lowed  by  the  old  colonel,  and  Marion  herself  stood  alarmed 
in  the  doorway.  The  blaze  of  the  burning  thatch  cast  a 
bright  red  light  for  a  long  distance  around,  upon  the  rusty 
trunks  of  the  forest  trees,  or  upon  the  green  leaves  of 
their  tops. 

The  scene  was  one  for  an  artist.  The  rough  and  various 
forms  and  accouterments  of  the  men,  the  different  expres 
sions  of  astonishment,  curiosity,  or  alarm,  which  might 
have  been  observed  upon  their  countenances ;  the  pale  and 
delicate  face  of  Marion,  as  she  stood  in  the  portal  of  the 
rude  log  building,  and  all  in  the  wilderness,  at  night,  and 
made  visible  by  the  lurid  reflection  of  a  burning  roof, 
formed  a  group  of  objects  not  often  to  be  met  with  by  the 
lover  of  the  picturesque. 

The  view,  however,  was  to  be  brief;  for  as  the  thatch 
was  exceedingly  dry,  it  burned  with  great  rapidity,  and 
was  soon  consumed,  without  even  setting  fire  to  the  tim 
bers  upon  which  it  rested.  As  the  flames  died  away,  the 
whole  scene  faded  into  darkness.  It  seemed  to  have  come 
and  gone  like  a  single  flash  from  a  magic  lantern.  The 
woods  around,  again  became  vocal  with  the  chirrup  of 
toads  and  the  cries  of  insects.  All  else  was  deep  hush  and 
solitude,  except  when  occasionally  the  voice  of  the  retreat 
ing  lunatic  could  be  heard  in  its  unearthly  merriment, 
ringing  from  afar. 

When  the  nature  of  the  disturbance,  and  the  result  of 
it  had  become  fully  known  to  all,  and  as  soon  as  all  danger 
of  the  fire  communicating  to  the  main  building  had  passed 
away,  most  of  those  who  had  been  aroused  by  it,  made 
arrangements  for  the  second  time  that  night,  to  retire. 
M'Carty  was  secretly  cursing  fate,  or  his  own  inefficiency 
and  want  of  foresight ;  and  feeling  an  intense  degree  of 


304  SARATOGA. 

chagrin  that  an  escape  for  the  second  time,  had  now  taken 
place  while  he  was  on  the  watch.  The  Indian  began  to 
feel  some  return  of  his  old  superstitious  awe  of  a  being 
who  played  such  terrible  pranks.  Walcott  was  simply 
annoyed.  The  labor  of  the  last  few  days  had  been  ren 
dered  unavailing,  and  must  be  done  over  again.  He  was 
the  last  one  to  retire.  He  saw  that  the  slightly  charred 
timbers  of  the  burned  roof  did  not  blaze  up  again,  and 
that  the  fire  had  in  fact,  effectually  died  out.  He  heard 
the  voice  of  the  wild  man  gradually  lose  itself  in  the  dis 
tance  ;  and  the  whole  scene  became  peaceful  and  undis 
turbed. 

Fortunately  Lucile  had  slept  on  through  all  the  uproar, 
and  that  as  quietly  as  if  nothing  had  occurred.  The  draft 
which  she  had  swallowed  must  have  been  a  potent  one,  or 
exhausted  nature  was  avenging  itself  for  too  many  hours 
of  weariness  and  watching  previously  spent  without  sleep. 

Whatever  was  the  cause,  her  senses  remained  locked  in 
profound  unconsciousness  through  all  the  anxieties  and 
disturbances  of  that  night. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

ELECTIVE      AFFINITIES. 

THE  next  morning  was  fair,  bright  and  still.  At  an 
early  hour,  even  before  sunrise,  the  party  of  pleasure  which 
had  occupied  the  tent  during  the  previous  night,  decamped; 
arid  soon  after,  might  have  been  seen  in  gay  procession, 
and  in  high  spirits  moving  to  the  north-eastward  along  tho 
rude  road- way  in  which  we  first  introduced  it  to  the  notice 
of  the  reader.  There  was  the  same  blowing  of  trumpets, 
the  same  prancing  of  horses,  the  same  tossing  of  bright 
plumes  in  the  air,  and  the  same  voices  of  merriment,  now, 
as  then.  "While  the  horizon  in  the  east  was  rosy  with  the 
uprising  light  of  day,  a  thin  white  line  of  vapor,  some 
miles  distant,  stretched  its  fleece-like,  rolling  coil  of  gauze 
above  the  bed  of  Saratoga  Lake — marking  thus  to  curious 
eyes,  where  that  beautiful  sheet  of  water  lay,  hushed  in 
the  moist  and  dewy  repose  of  unbroken  morning.  Such 
banks  of  fog  in  these  latitudes,  are  sometimes  to  be  seen 
in  summer,  and  always  in  the  autumn,  at  dawn,  hanging 
over  lakes  and  rivers ;  and  in  the  latter  case,  giving  in 
the  atmosphere  a  rude  reverse  of  its  sinuous  outline. 
These  vapory  transcripts  of  the  watery  features  of  the 
country,  only  f:ide  away  when  the  rays  of  the  ascending 

sun  begin  to  fall  upon  them  :  though  often  stirred  by  some 
20 


306  SARATOGA. 

auroral  breeze  they  are  huddled  off  in  vast  squadrons,  and 
disappear  among  the  woods  and  hills  around. 

But  we  have  no  time  fully  to  trace,  or  dwell  upon  all 
the  varying  and  picturesque  objects  which  might  attract 
the  notice  of  an  appreciating  eye  in  the  vicinity  where 
our  scenes  are  laid.  Many  such  mornings,  and  many 
such  views,  must  be  fresh  in  the  recollection  of  most  of 
our  readers. 

The  sun  had  been  up  for  a  long  time,  and  most  of  the 
occupants  of  Brigham's  cabin  had  gone  forth,  before  Lucile 
had  awoke  from  the  deep  sleep  into  which  she  had  fallen 
the  night  before.  So  profoundly  indeed  had  she  slumbered 
that  not  the  least,  most  flitting,  or  remote  idea  of  the  events 
of  the  last  eighteen  hours,  remained  in  her  mind.  Her 
senses  during  that  period  seemed  to  have  been,  like  drowsy 
sentinels  as  they  were,  all  off  duty  or  unmindful  of  it. 
The  space  of  time  was  therefore  an  utter  blank  in  her  ex 
istence — a  void  spanned  by  no  bridge  of  overarching  mem 
ories. 

But  though  this  period  was  thus,  so  to  speak,  stricken 
from  her  existence,  it  did  not  carry  into  oblivion  any  of 
the  events  anterior  to  it.  With  them,  there  was  still  com 
plete  connection.  All  that  had  transpired  since  this  event 
ful  expedition  was  commenced,  was  fresh  in  her  mind — 
each  individual  circumstance  was  clearly  engraved  upon 
her  memory  in  sharp  and  inerasable  outlines.  Upon 
them  therefore  did  her  first  waking  thoughts  turn.  Each 
event  was  passed  in  review,  but  all  rapidly  and  success 
ively  like  a  running  file  of  troops.  Her  mind  seemed  to 
take  them  all  in,  without  pause  or  interval — or  rather 
seemed  to  sweep  over  them,  as  a  skillful  hand  sweeps  the 
keys  of  a  piano,  so  that  each  circumstance,  like  a  note, 


ELECTIVE    AFFINITIES.  307 

gave  out  its  peculiar  tone,  and  produced  its  particular  ef 
fect,  though  all  so  rapidly  that  a  single  second  sufficed  to 
begin  and  end  the  task. 

But  after  these  events,  what  had  happened?  What 
•was  the  mystery  of  her  forgetfulness  ;  and  how  and  why 
came  she  in  the  precise  position  in  which  she  found  her 
self  on  waking  ?  She  was  not  unwell,  at  least  she  did 
not  now  feel  herself  to  be  so.  She  rose  up  and  looked 
out.  The  day  was  far  advanced,  the  birds  sang  by  the 
window,  the  peaceful  trees  hung  their  deep  green  branches 
between  her  and  the  blue  sky  above.  The  whole  world 
seemed  to  be  in  repose. 

But  we  must  not,  or  rather  we  can  not,  leave  her  longer 
alone.  As  she  stood  thus  in  thoughtful  silence  by  the 
window,  she  heard  a  light  step  behind  her ;  and  on  turn 
ing,  saw  Marion,  who  was  coming  to  salute  her  with  a 
smile  as  bright  and  cheerful  as  the  morning  itself.  Their 
affectionate  greeting  was  uttered  in  that  universal  lan 
guage,  a  kiss ;  which  with  the  young  expresses  more,  and 
goes  more  directly  to  the  heart,  than  any  words  which 
have  ever  been  devised  by  the  scholar,  or  any  phrases 
which  have  ever  been  invented  by  the  poet. 

"  And  so,  dear,  you  feel  quite  well  this  morning,  do 
you  not  ?"  said  Marion. 

"Well?"  answered  Lucile,  interrogatively;  "have  I 
then  been  ill?" 

"Only  a  little,"  replied  Marion.  "Don't  you  re 
member  yesterday,  when  we  came  back  from  the  Indian 
village,  that  you  felt  low-spirited,  and  had  a  slight 
headache 

"I  don't  remember  any  thing  about  it.  I  only  re 
member — but  I  remember  it  well — coming  back  from  that 


308  SARATOGA. 

dreadful  cavern  with  Arthur — with  Mr.  Walcott ;  but  for 
all  that  may  have  occurred  since,  I  feel  as  if  I  had  then 
fallen  into  a  sleep  from  which  I  have  but  this  moment 
awoke." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  asked  Marion,  with  surprise, 
"that  you  do  not  remember  how  Mr.  Walcott,  as  you 
will  call  him,  went  away  in  search  of  the  crazy  man  after 
ward?" 

"Oh!  yes,"  exclaimed  Lucile,  "now  that  you  men 
tion  it,  I  think  I  do  remember  something  about  that. 
But,  Marion,  what  has  been  the  matter  with  me?  I 
hope  I  was  not  delirious  also,"  she  continued,  laugh 
ing. 

"Yes,  but  you  were,  though,"  answered  Marion. 

"What,  I  delirious?"  asked  Lucile,  with  quick  sur 
prise  and  a  little  alarm. 

"  Wild  !"  answered  Marion. 

Lucile  stood  stupefied,  and  looked  the  picture  of  em 
barrassment,  incredulity  and  affright. 

"  But,"  continued  her  companion,  "I  will  tell  you  all 
about  it  by  and  by.  In  the  mean  time  you  must  let  me 
be  your  dressing-maid  for  a  little  while.  I  don't  believe 
you  would  like  to  see  papa  or  Arthur  in  your  present 
plight — and  they  are  anxious  to  see  you,  I  can  tell  you 
that." 

But  we  leave  the  two  thus  talking,  asking  and  answer 
ing  questions,  requesting  and  giving  explanations  with 
girlish  intimacy  and  frankness,  while  we,  for  a  time,  look 
after  the  course  and  position  of  some  others  concerned  in 
our  story. 

At  an  early  hour  in  the  morning  Walcott  had  gone  out 
in  order  to  pay  his  respects  to  his  old  friend,  though  hia 


ELECTIVE    AFFINITIES.  309 

recent  enemy,  Floyd,  who,  as  had  been  arranged,  was  to 
stay  behind  after  the  party  which  he  accompanied  thither 
had  taken  its  departure. 

The  two  young  men,  being  both  of  a  frank  and  liberal 
disposition,  soon  became  as  communicative  and  almost  as 
cordial  as  they  had  been  of  old.  The  events  which  had 
transpired,  and  the  casualties  and  adventures  which  had 
befallen  each  since  their  former  intimacy,  furnished  abund 
ant  matter  of  conversation ;  and,  in  the  interest  of  it,  an 
hour  or  so  was  passed  pleasantly  enough.  After  this 
they  returned  to  Brigham's  house  where  they  met  Colonel 
Belden. 

We  have  said  that  while  the  two  young  men  were  alone 
together  they  had  conversed  freely  and  without  constraint. 
We  should  have  said  that  such  was  the  fact  upon  all  sub 
jects  excepting  one.  This  topic,  which  each  secretly  and 
instinctively  avoided,  was,  as  may  readily  be  surmised, 
the  relations  in  which  they  respectively  stood  to  Miss 
Belden. 

Walcott  felt  anxious,  as  soon  as  it  was  possible,  that 
the  old  colonel  should  be  made  acquainted  with  the  new 
feelings  which  had  risen  up  between  himself  and  Marion, 
like  a  barrier,  to  prevent  their  union ;  but  he  also  felt  that 
the  task  of  communicating  the  intelligence  was  one  of 
great  delicacy  and  of  dubious  issue. 

Until  this  little  cloud  on  his  immediate  prospects  should 
be  dissipated,  he  did  not  feel  at  liberty  to  make  his  own 
position  in  reference  to  the  young  lady  the  subject  of  any 
conversation  with  third  parties. 

For  manifold  reasons,  on  the  other  hand,  Floyd  was 
most  anxious  to  know  how  Walcott  stood  in  the  family, 
but,  at  the  same  time,  he  was  conscious  that  it  would  be 


310  SARATOGA. 

impossible  to  clear  up  the  subject  by  a  direct  inquiry. 
To  both  of  them,  therefore,  there  was  food  for  much 
reflection,  arid  room  for  anxious  doubt.  The  secret  truth 
might  be  favorable  to  the  "wishes  of  either  or  each ;  but, 
even  if  so,  was  it  likely  that  Colonel  Belden  would  look 
with  an  approving  eye  upon  the  new  arrangements  which 
fate  was  silently  shaping  forth  for  them  ?  Was  it  not 
rather  probable  that  the  plan  of  marriage  between  Wal- 
cott  and  his  daughter,  now  in  the  way  of  being  broken  off, 
was  one  fixed  upon  and  considered  settled,  and  for  their 
best  interests,  years  before,  so  that  to  change  it  would  be 
to  uproot,  in  the  old  man's  mind,  a  prejudice  of  long 
growth,  and  difficult  of  eradication  ?  Was  it  not  likely 
that  in  itd  early  determination  no  thought  was  given  to 
the  feelings  with  which  the  parties  immediately  concerned 
might  regard  it  ? 

Upon  that  subject  it  is  well  known  that  the  old  and  the 
young  have  never  yet  been  able  to  look  with  the  same 
eye.  The  old  are  forever  providing  for  marriages  of 
interest,  and  the  young  as  constantly  think  only  of  mar 
riages  of  affection.  The  former  forget  to  allow  for  the 
impulses  of  youth,  and  seem  to  think  that  obvious  advan 
tages  of  a  pecuniary  and  social  character,  must  weigh  as 
strongly  at  the  age  of  eighteen  as  they  do  at  eighty; 
Avhile  the  latter,  in  truth,  very  rarely  think  of  any  point 
but  the  simple  feelings  of  nature  which  induce  the  pref 
erence,  and  which,  like  a  golden  halo,  outdazzle  all  other 
objects. 

An  experience  of  six  thousand  years  has  not  yet  cor 
rected  the  misconceptions  of  age,  or  the  imprudences  of 
youth  on  this  subject ;  and  were  the  world  ten  thousand 
years  old  at  this  moment,  it  is  not  at  all  likely  that  its 


ELECTIVE    AFFINITIES.  311 

octogenarians  would  be  any  the  wiser  herein  from  their 
own  experience,  or  that  its  marriageable  young  men  would 
be  any  the  more  disposed  to  regulate  their  connubial  ar 
rangements  by  the  experience  of  others. 

It  was  not  to  be  doubted  that  Colonel  Belden  had  long 
contemplated  the  union  of  his  daughter  with  Walcott — 
that  it  had  become  incorporated  with  all  his  plans  for  the 
future.  Any  change,  therefore,  would  be  a  great  thing 
for  him  to  consider — a  disarrangement  of  his  designs, 
and,  possibly,  a  disappointment  of  his  hopes.  No  matter 
what  substitution  might  be  proposed,  no  matter  if  the 
change  promised  to  be  better  for  his  daughter  in  all  those 
particulars  in  which  he  considered  the  true  eligibility  of 
a  marriage  to  consist,  still  the  change  would  be  vast,  and 
the  contemplation  of  it,  at  least  in  the  outset,  would  be 
repugnant  to  his  feelings. 

,  There  is  a  period  in  almost  every  summer  day,  shortly 
after  noon,  when,  as  every  body's  experience  will  corrobo 
rate,  the  air  is  peculiarly  still,  and  when  all  nature  seems 
to  invite  to  repose.  It  is  during  this  hour  that  people 
of  torrid  latitudes  take  the  well-known  siesta.  It  is  also 
then  that  the  hardy,  and  hard  laboring  peasant  of  severer 
climates  lays  himself  down  for  a  short  after  dinner  sleep 
— a  relaxation  from  toil,  which  he  enjoys  with  as  keen  a 
zest,  and  with  as  high  a  sense  of  its  luxury,  as  the  bright 
est-eyed,  most  tenderly  nurtured,  and  most  princely 
maiden  of  the  Antilles,  or  the  Austral  islands.  The  in 
fluences  of  nature  work  alike  upon  the  roughest,  and  upon 
the  most  delicate  of  animated  beings — and  lay  the  ox  and 
the  gazelle,  the  peasant  and  the  lady,  alike  under  con 
tribution. 

It  was  at  this  hushed  hour  of  the  midday,  when  every 


312  SARATOGA. 

thing  around  was  full  of  repose,  and  invited  to  somnolence, 
that  Lucile  Valcour  and  Arthur  Walcott  were  silently 
walking,  side  by  side,  along  a  solitary,  sunlit  pathway  of 
the  forest.  The  direction  which  they  had  taken  was  to 
ward  the  southward  from  the  cabin.  Their  ramble  had 
originated  in  a  careless,  or  seemingly  careless,  chat,  and 
in  an  unguided  and  purposeless  stroll.  They  had  been 
lured  on  by  the  coolness  of  the  shadows,  and  now  and 
then  by  the  temptation  to  cull  some  fresh  wild-flower,  as 
it  grew  by  the  side  of  their  path,  and  filled  the  grove 
with  its  fragrance.  It  was  not  by  design  that,  as  their 
conversation  went  on,  they  involuntarily  sought  more  and 
more  to  be  alone.  It  was  because  the  sentiments  which 
began  by  degrees  to  sparkle  in  their  eyes,  to  flush  their 
cheeks,  and  to  be  spoken  more  and  more  directly  by  their 
lips,  were  not  sentiments  which  either  of  them  would 
have  desired  any  other  human  being  to  hear  or  to  dis 
cover.  It  was  an  involuntary,  instinctive  impulse  of 
secrecy  which  had  guided  their  footsteps. 

And  now  they  were  already  at  some  distance  from  the 
point  whence  they  had  started.  It  is  not  for  us  to  lift 
the  vail  from  feelings  which  they  so  sedulously  sought  to 
conceal.  It  is  enough  for  us  to  know  that,  despite  of  all 
restraints  of  formality,  they  now  walked  not  only  side  by 
side,  but  hand  in  hand.  The  somnific  influences  of  the 
hour  were  unfelt  by  them.  The  distant  song  of  birds, 
which  at  intervals,  and  in  drowsy  notes,  was  still  heard 
from  leafy  thickets,  seemed  as  joyous  and  spirit-stirring 
to  them  as  the  first  clarion  notes  which  the  same  birds  had 
sent  forth  at  daybreak. 

Upon  the  cheek  of  the  girl  was  a  flush  which  was  not 


ELECTIVE    AFFINITIES.  313 

that  of  fever.     In  her  eje  was  a  light  which  was  not  that 
of  delirium. 

And  yet,  for  all  the  potent  pleasure  which  bound  them 
thus  in  solitary  companionship,  and  for  all  the  words  of 
magnetic  significance  which  betrayed  so  well  to  each  the 
passionate  happiness  of  the  other,  as  yet,  no  words  of 
actual  love — at  least  of  their  own  love — passed  between 
them.  Such  words  would  have  seemed  an  utter  superflu 
ity.  There  had  been  a  mingling  of  sentiment;  their 
sympathies  were  alike ;  their  thoughts  dwelt  on  kindred 
topics;  and  their  hopes  and  feelings  flowed  in  unison. 
The  voices  of  their  hearts  had  spoken,  and,  like  accord 
ing  notes,  sounded  harmoniously.  In  whatever  they  saw, 
in  whatever  they  heard,  in  whatever  they  thought  and 
uttered,  they  seemed  to  discover  a  common  point  of  inter 
est;  and  a  conviction — a  most  pleasing,  overpowering 
conviction — had  gradually  stolen  upon  the  mind  of  each 
as  to  the  cause  of  this  wonderful  unity  of  thought  and 
emotion.  From  what  fountain  but  one,  could  such  mighty 
happiness  flow?  Alas!  to  the  heart  of  youth,  there  ia 
but  one  such  fountain  in  the  wide,  waste,  melancholy 
world ;  while  age  has  proved,  or  believes  that  it  has 
proved,  even  this  to  be  a  delusion — an  unsubstantial  mir 
age  of  the  desert.  But  still,  to  the  young,  love,  that 
source  of  so  much  hope,  is  ever  sought  for,  "as  the  hart 
panteth  after  the  water-brook."  The  poisonous  drafts 
which  are  sometimes  partaken  from  it,  are  as  yet  unsus 
pected.  Sweet  are  those  streams  to  the  taste.  They  are 
the  fabled  nectar  of  the  heathen  gods — as  grateful  to  the 
palate  as  the  waters  of  everlasting  life — till  the  sad  les 
sons  of  experience  have  shown  how  often  they  become  the 
waters  of  oblivion,  or  like  the  contents  of  a  poisoned 


314  SARATOGA. 

chalice,  to  partake  of  which  leads  to  early  sorrow,  or  to 
premature  death. 

And  yet,  though  the  happiness  may  be  unenduring, 
what  heart,  though  seared  by  time  and  worldly  care,  can 
fail  to  sympathise  with  those  emotions  of  early  life  ?  In 
after  years  there  are  none  such.  They  are  the  high  noon 
of  earthly  joy.  After  them,  life  goes  on  decayingly  and 
^lemnly  to  its  shadowy  sunset.  Oh !  joy  of  early  love  I 
How  foolish  in  the  remembrance  of  the  selfish  and  the 
worldly-minded;  but  how  embalmed  and  sacred  in  the 
memory  of  such  as  appreciate  life,  and  its  struggles,  its 
ambitions,  and  its  sorrows,  at  their  true  value. 

Through  the  still "  woods,  then,  still  wandered  on  that 
happy  young  pair.  The  secret  to  them  had  been  divulged 
— not  by  bashful  and  timid  lips,  but  by  the  undeceiving 
eye,  by  the  electrical  touch,  by  the  wide  open  mirror  of 
harmonious  and  sympathetic  thoughts.  As  yet  each  felt 
it  to  be  a  truth — a  most  pleasing,  life-involving  truth; 
but  as  for  the  lips — those  observers  of  forms,  those  servants 
of  interest,  those  chroniclers  of  lies — they  had  not  even 
whispered  it. 

And  yet  hand  in  hand  our  lovers  wandered  on.  When 
their  hands  were  at  first  carelessly  joined,  it  was  as  if  a 
chain  had  suddenly  linked  their  several  existences  together. 
— a  seemingly  indissoluble  and  most  potent  chain.  To 
withdraw  their  hands,  then,  might  indeed,  divide  their 
persons,  but  the  moral  links,  intangible  to  the  eye,  inap 
preciable  to  the  judgment,  would  still  bind  their  hearts  by 
their  golden  weight  and  magic  power.  Ah !  then  why 
withdraw  those  agitated  and  trembling  fingers,  so  lovingly 
intertwined  ?  Indeed,  on  behalf  of  Lucile,  the  unexplained 
sensation  was  as  if  that  small  white  hand,  so  given  in 


ELECTIVE    AFFINITIES.  315 

token  of  fealty,  had  found  its  natural  home  of  protection. 
Where  else  could  it  go,  or  to  what  beside  so  confidingly 
cling  ?  And  thus  it  was  that  the  entranced  girl,  in  her 
happiness,  still  left  her  hand  where  her  heart  would  have 
placed  it ;  and  felt  as  if  her  very  soul,  like  an  overcharged 
vase,  was  flowing  thence  and  pouring  of  its  fullness  into 
the  very  heart  of  her  lover. 

Intense  indeed  was  her  happiness — intense  the  happi 
ness  of  each.  No  thought  of  time  or  place  occurred  to 
them.  A  broken  conversation  was  still  imperfectly  kept 
up  between  them — on  indifferent  topics — on  all  topics,  but 
one ;  but  still,  in  whatever  was  said,  there  was  the  same 
unvarying,  invariable  meaning.  Who  should  break  the 
charm,  and  why  should  it  be  broken  ? 

In  that  joyous  hour,  earth  seemed  like  what  the  garden 
of  Eden  must  have  been  before  it  was  visited  by  the  evil 
one.  And  although  its  happiness  seemed  almost  un- 
mingled,  at  intervals,  faint  glimmerings  of  remembrance 
or  apprehension  would  shoot  up  athwart  their  minds,  as 
if  to  recall  to  their  recollection,  or  give  warning  to  their 
inexperience,  that  every  thing  earthly  was  evanescent  or 
delusive.  But  for  this,  why  should  tears — tears  of  hap 
piness,  sometimes  appear  in  the  young  eyes  of  the  tender 
hearted  girl  ?  Tears  unbidden,  and  apparently  uncaused? 
Alas !  there  is  a  solemn  whispering  of  warning  arising 
from  the  depths  of  each  human  soul,  even  in  the  moment 
of  its  greatest  security  and  highest  bliss.  Hence,  as  they 
are  called,  " tears  of  happiness"  Is  it  supposed  that 
angels,  in  the  unclouded  sky  of  everlasting  life,  ever  weep 
for  the  intensity  of  their  joy  ? 

During  this  while,  without  material  pause,  did  the  two 
young  people  continue  to  yield  to  the  impulse,  which  had 


316  SARATOGA. 

thus  far  urged  them  on.  We  do  not  attempt  to  chronicle 
their  words.  We  can  not  even  give  a  faithful  picture  of 
their  conduct.  Was  a  fair  flower  visible  near  their  path  ? 
It  was  soon  in  the  hand,  in  the  hair,  or  on  the  bosom  of 
the  blushing  girl.  Was  there  to  be  seen  a  glorious  reach 
of  azure  sky  shining  through  the  tree- tops  far  away,  like 
a  distant  aerial  lake  ?  It  was  he  that  besought  her  instant 
attention  to  it,  and  found  some  neighboring  hillock,  or 
moss-covered  stone  to  bring  it  more  clearly  into  view. 
Was  a  rough  portion  of  the  pathway  to  be  surmounted. 
or  a  stony  rivulet  to  be  passed  ?  It  was  his  arm  that  sup 
ported  her  over  the  difficulties  of  the  one,  and  guided  her 
footsteps  through  the  intricacies  of  the  other.  And  how 
much  was  to  be  said  between  them  !  Each  was  to  unfold 
to  the  other  a  map  of  his  or  her  past  life,  with  its  lights 
and  shadows,  like  a  landscape  ;  its  eminences  of  hope,  and 
its  valleys  of  sorrow.  Thus  in  their  memories  lay  wide 
fields  of  discourse,  which  years  of  communion  would 
scarcely  suffice  to  travel  over.  In  nature  too,  that  beau 
tiful  and  variegated  nature,  whose  myriad  objects  of 
wonder  surrounded  them,  what  stores  of  mystery,  and 
what  multitudinous  topics  of  thought !  And  yet,  on  all 
these  things,  their  conversation  lingered  but  briefly.  As 
if  on  the  wing,  it  passed  lightly  over  a  wide  expanse,  and 
ever,  in  circular  gyrations,  came  back  to  dwell  upon  a 
theme  more  grateful  to  their  hearts — a  theme,  which  like 
the  sun  in  a  landscape,  illumined  all  other  objects,  and 
gave  them  life  and  beauty. 

But  upon  this  picture,  so  pleasing  and  so  genial,  we 
are  unable  any  longer  to  dwell.  The  panoramic  canvas 
moves  on,  and  the  scene  must  change. 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

UNEXPECTED     ENCOUNTER. 

NEAR  Walcott  and  his  companion,  for  some  time  past, 
had  been  moving  an  object  very  different  in  character  and 
appearance  from  themselves.  It  was  one  well  calculated  to 
chase  from  their  minds  the  halo  of  their  present  happiness, 
and  all  "castles  in  the  air"  for  the  future.  Absorbed,  how 
ever,  as  they  were  in  the  contemplation  of  each  other  and 
in  their  own  feelings,  it  so  far  escaped  their  attention.  This 
object  was  neither  more  or  less  than  our  old  acquaintance, 
Jacob,  who,  for  some  time,  with  all  the  stealth  of  a  cat, 
and  the  perseverance  of  a  sleuth-hound,  had  been  spying 
their  movements  and  hanging  upon  their  footsteps.  Not 
the  rustling  of  a  leaf,  the  fall  of  an  acorn,  the  crackling 
of  a  stick,  or  the  flight  of  a  bird  taking  suddenly  to  wing, 
betrayed  his  presence  or  his  passage.  Long  practice  had 
enabled  him  to  move  as  noiselessly  through  the  forest,  as 
his  own  shadow. 

And  during  this  while  he  was  well  worth  a  little  atten 
tion  ;  for,  as  he  darted  behind  the  great  brown  trees,  and 
peered  out  from  leafy  bushes,  his  eyes  shone,  if  possible, 
more  fiercely  and  maliciously  than  ever.  To  add  to  the 
formidableness  of  his  aspect,  he  no\)r  carried  in  his  hands 
a  huge  bludgeon.  It  was  still  rough  with  unshorn  knots 
and  bark.  But,  notwithstanding  its  obvious  weight  and 


318  SARATOGA. 

size,  its  possessor  handled  it  with  as  much  ease  as  if  it 
had  been  an  ordinary  walking-stick.  In  his  grasp  it  was, 
most  assuredly,  a  murderous-looking  weapon.  It  might 
readily  fell  an  ox,  and  when  swung  by  the  brawny  arms 
which  now  held  it,  upon  whatsoever  human  head  it  might 
descend,  it  must  come  with  a  crushing  power,  sufficient 
to  produce  instant  death. 

Close  upon  the  footsteps  of  our  two  young  people  did 
this  wild  Hercules  thus  continue  to  follow,  unheard  and 
unseen.  A  double  motive  seemed  to  be  actuating  him. 
That  he  still  looked  upon  Lucile  as  in  some  way  belong 
ing  to  himself,  was  most  probable ;  and  that  he  now  began 
to  regard  Walcott,  not  only  as  a  man  to  be  feared,  but  as 
one  to  be  avenged  upon,  might  be  argued  from  the  for 
midable  preparations  he  had  made  to  meet  him.  Besides, 
until  now  he  had  always,  from  whatever  cause  it  might 
arise,  sought  rather  to  avoid,  than  to  be  near  the  young 
man.  His  present  conduct,  therefore,  indicated  some 
change  in  his  disposition. 

Meanwhile,  he  to  whom  this  change  was  principally 
important  was  quite  ignorant  of  it.  Had  it  been  other 
wise,  it  would,  probably,  not  have  caused  him  any  un 
easiness  on  his  own  account.  He  was  far  too  sanguine 
and  self-reliant  for  that.  But  it  might  have  occasioned 
him  some  apprehension  on  account  of  his  fair  companion, 
who  was  too  unused  to  such  dangers,  and  had  been  too 
recently  in  tue  power  of  the  maniac  not  to  be  nervously 
and,  perhaps,  hysterically  alive  to  the  horrors  of  his 
presence. 

They  had  been  walking  for  a  long  time,  and  had  com 
menced  their  return  toward  the  hut.  At  a  little  distance 
»-  head  of  them  was  a  thick  copse  of  scrub  pine,  through 


UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER.      319 

the  midst  of  which  the  path  wound  its  way.  Toward 
this,  as  they  slowly  moved  along,  Jacob,  by  a  little 
circuit,  hurried  forward  so  as  to  anticipate  them  in  reach 
ing  it.  It  was  a  convenient  and  almost  impenetrable 
ambush.  He  succeeded  in  arriving  there  before  them, 
and  still  unseen.  Here  he  ensconced  himself  with  all 
secrecy  and  care,  taking  up  such  a  position  as  would 
enable  him  to  fall  upon  his  victims  with  almost  certain 
effect.  He  waited  in  silence  while  they  slowly  ap 
proached. 

For  them  the  occasion  was  not  one  of  haste.  With 
lingering  footsteps,  and  voices  modulated  to  the  harmony 
of  the  forest  echoes,  they  seemed  to  have  given  themselves 
up  to  the  intoxicating  influences  of  the  hour  and  the  occa 
sion.  The  trees,  shrubs,  and  flowers  which  they  passed, 
and  which  tempted  them,  at  every  moment,  to  pause  in 
contemplation  of  a  new  beauty,  or  to  dwell  upon  the 
varied  sentiments  suggested  by  them,  were  only  so  far 
observed  as  they  were  the  occasion  of  a  ceaseless  play  and 
change  of  fancy  in  their  minds,  and  as  they  seemed  to 
cast  moving  lights  and  shadows  upon  their  thoughts,  as 
they  did  upon  the  leaf-strown  earth  at  their  feet. 

But,  linger  as  they  would,  the  two  young  people  still 
advanced,  and,  at  length  arrived  in  front  of  Jacob's 
ambush.  Yet,  even  there,  the  absorbing  theme,  which 
had  so  withdrawn  their  thoughts  from  outward  objects, 
continued  to  occupy  them.  This  theme,  however,  had 
not  yet  been  distinctly  discussed.  Each  thought  of 
nothing  else,  and  yet,  each  shunned  to  mention  it,  as 
if  the  happiness  it  involved  was  too  great  to  believe  in, 
or  the  disappointment  it  might  occasion  would  be  too 
bitter  to  survive.  But  to  them  its  dazzling  luster  waa 


320  SARATOGA. 

still  attractive,  and  around  it  they  continued  to  flutter, 
like  moths  around  a  candle. 

They  were  now  within  two  circles  of  danger,  the  one 
mental,  the  other  physical.  To  one,  they  had  been  for 
some  time  exposed,  and  they  were  just  treading  across 
the  outer  verge  of  the  other.  Slowly  they  passed  by  the 
fatal  place  of  concealment.  It  was  the  moment  of  peril. 
Behind  them,  glided,  like  a  phantom,  the  ill-omened  form 
of  the  wild  man.  Already  is  his  arm  upheaved,  bearing 
its  ponderous  club,  when — hark !  there  rises  upon  the  still 
air,  in  sharp,  startling  echoes,  the  long,  shrill,  sonorous 
cry  of  a  hound !  As  quickly  as  if  struck  by  a  ball,  did 
Walcott  turn  in  the  path.  It  was  just  in  time  !  Before 
him  stood  the  Titanic  Jacob,  with  threatening  mien  and 
attitude.  But  upon  him  there  fell  a  glance,  before  which 
his  eye  had  ever  quailed.  Like  an  Arctic  winter,  it  froze 
him  where  he  stood.  His  courage  and  his  limbs  were 
stricken  with  instantaneous  inaction,  as  with  a  paral 
ysis. 

Sternly  and  steadily  did  Walcott  then  approach  him. 
He  covered  him  with  his  eye,  as  a  hunter  does  his  game. 
He  enveloped  him  with  a  magic  influence.  It  was  too  much 
for  brute  force.  Mind,  the  master  of  the  world,  was  still 
master  here. 

"With  a  wild  shout  of  fear,  rage,  and  disappointment, 
the  maniac,  by  a  convulsive  effort,  broke  away  from  the 
spell  which  was  being  put  upon  him,  and  rushed  violently 
through  the  woods.  Loud  and  discordant  cries  filled  the 
air,  as  he  disappeared ;  and  some  minutes  elapsed  before 
the  unnatural  sounds  were  silenced  by  distance.  It 
was  not  until  then  that  Walcott  looked  about  him  to 
see  what  had  become  of  his  companion.  He  found  her 


UNEXPECTED    ENCOUNTER.  321 

lying  upon  the  ground,  pale  and  motionless.  The  sudden 
Bight  of  Jacob,  in  his  menacing  attitude,  had  been  too 
much  for  her  nerves,  painfully  excitable  as  they  were,  af 
ter  her  recent  exposure  and  illness. 

The  young  man  was  instantly  by  her  side.  He  knew 
that  she  had  fainted,  and  that  the  danger  was  not  immi 
nent  ;  but  the  case  was  sufficiently  serious  for  all  that. 
With  quick  alarm,  he  bethought  him  of  what  to  do.  It 
was  but  the  work  of  a  moment  for  him  to  run  to  a  neigh 
boring  rivulet,  and  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  to  bring  a 
little  cool  water  which  he  dashed  in  her  face.  Kneeling 
beside  her  then,  he  half  lifted  her  in  his  arms ;  and  while 
holding  her  head,  with  watchful  tenderness,  he  waited  for 
tire  signs  of  returning  consciousness  with  painful  anxiety. 
At  that  moment,  he  easily  forgot  his  reserve,  and  words 
of  endearment  broke  from  his  lips  involuntarily,  as  he  be 
sought  her  to  revive,  giving  assurance  that  the  danger 
was  past. 

In  a  few  minutes  she  began  to  breathe  again,  while  her 
pulse,  like  a  disturbed  pendulum,  slowly  resumed  the  reg 
ularity  of  its  oscillation.  Then  opening  her  eyes,  with 
a  start,  it  was  some  seconds  before  she  appeared  to  com 
prehend  the  situation  in  which  she  found  herself.  She  rose 
up  quickly ;  and  in  an  impulse  of  gratitude,  while  the  re 
turning  blood  crimsoned  her  cheek  and  forehead,  she  took  his 
hand  in  a  half  caress,  while  she  could  not  help  saying  : 

"  Ah !  thank  heaven,  you  are  safe  after  all !  It  seems 
to  me  like  a  frightful  dream.  Let  us  return  at  once,  and 
no  longer  be  exposed  to  that  dreadful  man." 

"Yes,  safe,"  he  replied;  "and  you  need  never  be 
alarmed,  for  him,  when  I  am  with  you.  You  see  how  he 

fled." 

21 


822  SARATOGA. 

At  this  moment  a  voice,  well  known  to  Lucile,  was 
heard  behind  them,  suddenly  exclaiming  : 

"Good  God!  my  daughter,  what  is  all  this  I. sec? 
And  what  has  happened  to  you,  I  pray?" 

"My  father!  It  is  my  father!"  cried  Lucile,  as  she 
darted  from  Walcott,  and  flung  herself,  with  tears,  into 
the  arms  of  the  old  man,  for  it  was  indeed  her  father  who 
had  come. 

Our  old  acquaintance  the  dog,  too,  whose  opportune 
outcry  had  given  warning  of  Jacob's  fell  intent,  now 
testified  his  joy  at  the  meeting  by  leaping  and  gamboling 
around  the  party,  in  all  ways  in  which  canine  gratulation 
ia  usually  expressed. 

"Why,  Prince,"  said  Lucile,  patting  the  dog,  after 
the  transports  of  her  meeting  with  her  father  were  over, 
"  where  have  you  been  this  long  time?  I  am  afraid  you 
are  but  a  truant  cur  of  a  dog,  after  all,  and  I  have  a 
great  mind  not  to  speak  to  you." 

"You  need  not  think  hardly  of  him,  Lucile,"  said  Mr. 
Valcour;  "  for  if  he  left  you,  it  was  only  to  come  to  me 
to  give  warning  that  my  presence  was  necessary  (here  he 
glanced  slightly  at  the  young  man) ;  or  perhaps  that 
something  had  happened  to  you ;  for  I  see  that  you  are 
pale  and  ill,  my  poor  child !  So  come !  tell  me  all  about 
it.  But  first  allow  me  to  greet  my  friend  here." 

Walcott,  who,  after  the  meeting  of  the  father  and 
daughter,  and  up  to  this  moment,  out  of  respect  for  their 
feelings,  had  remained  somewhat  apart,  now  came  forward 
to  salute  Mr.  Yalcour  in  his  turn. 

During  this  proceeding  the  cheek  of  the  young  girl 
was  illumined  by  a  flush  a  little  more  marked  than  usual ; 
but  the  self-possession  of  the  true  lady,  and  the  confi- 


UNEXPECTED    ENCOUNTER.  323 

dence  she  felt  in  the  truthfulness  and  dignity  of  her  feel 
ings,  still  made  her  manner  composed,  and  in  the  eye  of 
a  lover  at  least,  more  charming  than  ever. 

"He  is,  sir,"  she  said,  as  she  took  Walcott  by  the 
hand,  and  led  him  to  her  father;  "he  is  thrice  my  pre 
server  ;  and  you  have  to  thank  him  many  times,  my  dear 
father,  for  the  life  of  your  child." 

"  Believe  not  her  extravagance,  my  good  sir,"  said 
Walcott.  "  I  have  done  no  more  than  what  any  man, 
not  to  say  any  gentleman,  would  have  felt  himself  bound 
to  do  under  the  same  circumstances  ;  and  I  am  only  too 
happy  to  have  been  the  one  whose  lot  it  was  to  be  of  use 
in  this  case." 

"  But,  dear  father,"  she  broke  in,  "  you  do  not  know  ! 
The  story  is  such  a  frightful  one!  Such  a  dreadful 
creature  has  been  haunting  us !  I  thought  I  saw  him 
but  now,  and  it  was  that — his  standing  with  such  a  great 
club,  and  threatening  to  strike  Mr.  Walcott — it  was  that 
which  made  me  foolish — made  me  faint,  I  believe." 

"  Such  is  the  fact,  sir,"  said  Walcott ;  "  there  is  a  poor 
maniac  wandering  in  the  woods  here,  who  is  sometimes  a 
little  violent ;  and  but  for  our  timely  exertions,  he  might 
have  done  some  evil.  As  your  daughter  says,  he  was 
here  but  a  moment  ago,  and  apparently  with  some  bad 
purpose.  I  turned  around  at  the  noise  made  by  the  dog, 
and  saw  him  stealing  toward  us.  You  yourself  must  have 
observed  him,  or,  at  least,  have  heard  him,  before  he  got 
away?" 

"  It  was,  I  suppose,  the  strange-looking  creature  that 
I  took  for  an  Indian  as  I  came  up,"  replied  the  old  man ; 
"  he  ran  off  with  a  horrible  outcry.  Still,  whatever  the 
story  may  be,  it  seems  too  long  to  be  told  now.  I  have, 


324  SARATOGA. 

in  the  mean  while,  to  thank  you,  sir,  for  the  services  which 
my  daughter  says  you  have  rendered  to  her.  Believe 
me,  I  am  more  touched  by  kindness  to  her,  than  if  it  had 
been  extended  to  myself.  You  can  hardly  appreciate  how 
highly  I  prize  a  service  done  to  one  I  cherish  so  dearly." 

As  he  spoke  thus,  he  laid  one  of  his  hands,  trembling 
with  emotion,  upon  the  head  of  his  child ;  while  he  ex 
tended  the  other  cordially  to  Walcott. 

It  soon  appeared  from  what  Mr.  Valcour  said,  that  in 
traveling  through  the  woods  on  horseback,  the  attention 
of  himself  and  his  companion,  had  been,  a  short  time 
before,  attracted  by  the  uneasy  and  remarkable  conduct 
of  the  dog  that  had  accompanied  them.  He  began  whin 
ing  and  running  about  ahead  of  them,  and  at  last  breaking 
off  from  the  track  they  were  pursuing,  ran  some  distance 
to  the  westward,  yelping,  and  with  his  nose  upon  the 
ground  as  if  upon  a  trail.  He  did  not  however  go  out  of 
sight,  but  as  soon  as  he  discovered  that  he  was  not  fol 
lowed  paused,  turned  about,  and  set  up  a  low  howl,  as  if 
to  beckon  pursuit. 

Mr.  Valcour,  who  had  already  been  much  disturbed  by 
apprehensions  for  his  daughter's  safety,  though  without 
being  able  to  assign  any  good  reasons  for  it,  still  deter 
mined  to  ascertain  what  these  singular  movements  of  the 
beast  might  signify.  He,  therefore,  dismounting,  followed 
him  for  a  short  distance  into  the  brake.  It  was  at  this 
time  that  the  warning  cry  of  the  alarmed  brute  had  so- 
startled  Walcott ;  and,  by  inducing  him  instantly  to  turn 
about,  had  most  probably  saved  his  life. 

All  three  now  directed  their  course  to  the  spot  at  which 
Mr.  Valcour  had  left  his  horse  in  charge  of  his  travel 
ing  companion.  As  however,  the  distance  thence  to  the 


UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER.      325 

house  of  Brigham  was  not  great,  they  took  the  beaten 
track  thither  on  foot,  the  horses  being  meanwhile  sent 
forward.  This  walk  afforded  them  an  opportunity  to 
make  such  explanations  as  were  desired,  and  Mr.  Valcour 
now  heard  a  full  recital  of  the  events  which  had  lately 
transpired.  His  astonishment  and  alarm,  even  though 
the  danger  was  past,  were  extreme. 

In  particular,  was  his  wonder  excited  by  the  rare  in 
stinct  of  the  dog,  which  seemed  to  have  been  something 
superior  to  intellect  itself,  in  thus  apprehending  dangers 
which  no  human  wisdom,  could,  under  the  circumstances, 
have  dreamed  of.  Great  also  was  the  old  man's  thank 
fulness.  With  a  swelling  heart,  again  and  again  were  hia 
acknowledgments  uttered.  With  what  pride,  with  what 
pleasure,  did  Lucile  see  and  hear  expressed  by  her  father, 
some  part  of  the  deep  gratitude  which  filled  her  own  heart, 
but  to  which,  as  she  thought,  she  would  never  be  able  to 
give  adequate  expression. 

Walcott  himself  was  greatly  pleased  at  the  thought, 
that,  whether  deserving  or  not,  his  conduct  had  thus  won 
approval,  in  a  quarter  where  he  now  valued  approval 
most. 

After  a  short  walk  they  all  reached  the  open  ground. 
Here  they  were  encountered  by  Indian  Joe. 

"  Seen  big  Jake  in  woods,  eh?"  he  asked  of  Walcott. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other ;  "  but  why  do  you  ask ?  But  I 
see  you  have  a  gun  there.  I  hope  you  do  n't  mean  to  use 
it  if  you  meet  him?" 

"Don't  know,"  said  Joe,  coolly. 

"Pray  don't  be  so  cross  with  poor  Joe,"  here  inter 
posed  Lucile  in  a  whisper,  addressing  Walcott ;  for  she 
saw  that  he  was  not  pleased,  and  that  another  quarrel 


326  SARATOGA. 

with  Joe  might  take  place.  The  young  man  was  strongly 
inclined  to  interfere  with  the  half-expressed  purpose  of 
the  savage,  and  that  by  some  positive  prohibition ;  but  the 
voice  which  now  spoke  to  him  came  like  music  over  the 
uprising  discord  of  his  heart,  and  soothed  his  harsher  pur 
pose.  Her  appealing  tones  at  that  moment,  proved 
omnipotent.  Within  his  own  heart,  sat  a  sceptcred 
magician,  that  swayed  him  with  a  despotic,  though  a 
genial  power.  Under  this  strpng  curb,  he  refrained  from 
saying  any  thing  more  to  ^fche  half-breed,  at  that  moment ; 
but  observed  him  so  fa/  as  to  note  that  he  went  off  into 
the  thicket  without  holding  any  further  discourse  with 
any  one,  or  vouchsafing  Wiy  further  explanation  of  his 
designs. 

After  they  had  proceeded*  a  little  further  they  were  also 
met  by  Brigham,  who  came  forward  saying  to  the  young 
people : 

"  Where  the  deuce  have  you  been  so  long  ?  The 
colonel  is  in  a  great  way  about  you.  But  I  can't  tell  all 
that's  happened  sin'  ye  strayed  off.  You  '11  find  it  out 
soon  enough  yourselves,  I  reckon." 

"  But,"  said  Walcott,  smiling,  "you  can  give  us  some 
idea  of  these  new  wonders  can  you  not?  Nobody  else 
carried  off,  I  hope?" 

"No,"  answered  Brigham,  "yet  stop;  now  I  come  to 
think  on 't,  there  was.  Major  Floyd  was  carried  off — by 
his  own  hoss !" 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  he  has  taken  his  leave  in 
this  abrupt  manner?" 

"Yes  but  I  do,  though,3''  replied  Brigham:  "can't 
guess  the  reason  on't.  May  be  an  order  from  head-quar 
ters.  But  I  suppose  the  old  colonel  can  explain  it  all. 


UNEXPECTED  ENCOUNTER.      327 

So  come  along,  you  and  your  friends,  for  I  see  you've  got 
another  one  or  so." 

"Yes,  Brigham,"  answered  Walcott,  "this  gentleman 
is  Mr.  Valcour,  the  father  of  the  young  lady." 

"  Well,"  said  Brigham,  "he'd  be  welcome  even  if  he 
was  an  entire  stranger ;  and  so  he's  sure  to  be  welcome  as 
the  father  of  the  young  woman.  She's  a  nice  and  de- 
sarving  gal,  though  it's  I  that  say  it ;  and  I  dare  say  she 
has  a  fond  father,  since  she  turns  the  heads  of  strapping 
young  fellers  like  you  and  me,  eh,  captain?" 

Nice  feelings  and  a  delicate  address  were  never  the  dis 
tinguishing  characteristics  of  men  of  Brigham' s  stamp. 
It  was  not  without  a  blush  that  Walcott  listened  to  his 
rude  attempts  at  civility  and  politeness — a  blush  partly 
of  pleasure  and  partly  of  shame — of  pleasure  at  the  in 
tended  praise  of  Lucile,  and  of  shame  not  only  at  the 
rough  work  he  made  of  it,  but  at  the  suspicion  that  Brig- 
ham  had  already  some  sort  of  vague  perception  of  his 
feelings  towards  the  young  lady. 

On  this  point  he  felt  sensitive  enough.  The  idea  of  his 
secret  sentiments  being  known — sentiments  which  he  had 
as  yet  scarcely  dared  to  avow  to  himself,  gave  him  the 
keenest  annoyance.  Besides  he  had  had  no  explanation 
with  Colonel  Belden,  who  might,  like  others,  have  his 
eyes  open  to  what  was  going  on  about  him ;  and  who 
might  not  by  any  means  relish  either  the  new  state  of 
things,  or  the  nice  little  arrangement  between  Walcott 
and  his  daughter,  by  which  it  had  been  furthered,  if  not 
brought  about.  It  is  true  the  young  man  desired  him  to 
be  informed  of  all  these  things,  and  that  as  speedily  as 
possible ;  but  yet  he  desired  to  have  it  done  in  a  particu- 


328  SARATOGA. 

lar  way,  so  that  the  intelligence  would  produce  neither  a 
shock  or  a  fit  of  indignation. 

It  would  be  infinitely  better,  he  thought,  that  full  ex 
planations  should  first  be  given  by  Marion.  He  asked 
himself  why  it  was  that  the  old  gentleman  was,  as  Brig- 
ham  had  intimated,  anxious  for  his  return  ?  Why  also 
had  Major  Floyd  so  suddenly  departed  ?  Had  the  two 
events  any  connection  ?  But  it  was  useless  to  speculate. 
It  was  useless  also  to  endeavor  to  hide  from  himself  that 
he  felt  some  foreboding.  Though  he  fully  justified  his 
own  conduct  to  himself,  he  was  of  course,  entirely  in  the 
dark  as  to  what  view  the  old  colonel  might  take  of  it.  In 
approaching  him  therefore,  he  did  so  with  some  of  the 
feelings  with  which  a  culprit  comes  before  a  judge. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

AN    ENTIRELY    NEW    PROGRAMME. 

As  the  party  drew  nigh  to  the  cabin  they  were  met  by 
Colonel  Belden,  who  greeted  the  father  of  Lucile  with 
much  heartiness  and  good-will.  Some  time  was,  in  fact, 
spent  in  little  courtesies  and  attentions  between  them. 
His  manner  to  Walcott,  on  the  contrary,  though  not  abso 
lutely  discourteous,  was  cool — sufficiently  so  at  all  events, 
to  indicate  that  something  was  the  matter.  Besides,  Ma 
rion  had  not  come  forth  to  meet  them.  She  had  remained 
in  the  inner  apartment.  Hither  Lucile  also  soon  went, 
but  did  not  immediately  return.  No  explanation  of  what 
had  occurred  seemed  likely,  therefore,  to  be  soon  attain 
able  :  and  as  the  two  old  gentlemen  seemed  to  have  much 
to  say  to  each  other,  or  at  least,  talked  as  continuously 
and  eagerly  as  if  their  conversation  was  important ;  and  as 
Walcott  felt  himself  kept  a  little  at  a  distance,  he  after  a 
few  moments,  withdrew  into  the  open  air.  Here  he  hunted 
up  Brigham  again,  and  endeavored  to  extract  from  him 
something  to  throw  light  upon  the  cool  reception  he  had 
met  with. 

"  Well,"  said  that  worthy  individual,  rolling  a  quid  of 
tobacco  from  one  of  his  cheeks  to  the  other ;  "  as  I  tell'd 
ye  before,  there's  no  making  out  exactly  what's  in  the 
wind,  but  a  man  can  guess,  you  know." 


330  SARATOGA. 

"  But,"  said  Walcott,  "  what  was  it  that  you  saw  and 
know ;  for  perhaps  when  I  hear  that,  I  can  form  some  no 
tion  for  myself." 

"  Why,  then,  Mr.  Walcott,"  said  the  other,  "  to  tell  the 
business,  free  and  candid ;  arter  you  went  off,  and  nobody 
could  tell  exactly  how,  except  that  the  young  gal — the 
black-eyed  one,  I  mean — was  gone  too —  why  what  should 
Major  Floyd  do  but  contrive  to  get  up  another  select 
party  for  himself;  that  is  to  say,  himself  and  the  colonel's 
darter.  The  old  gentleman  and  me  all  this  while  was 
talking  of  old  times,  and  paying  little  or  no  attention  to 
other  matters.  Hows  'ever,  at  last  he  axes  for  Mary 
Ann." 

"Marion,  you  mean,"  interrupted  Walcott. 

"  Well,  Marion,  then ;  he  axes  for  her,  but  she  wasn't 
to  be  seen.  So  up  he  gets,  and  says  he,  '  Brigham,  did 
you  notice  which  way  Mary  Ann  (or  Marion,  as  you  call 
her)  went?'  'Yes,'  says  I,  'she  and  Floyd  has  gone 
down  toward  the  rock.'  '  And  where,'  says  he,  arter 
that,  '  are  all  the  rest  on  'em  ?'  '  Why,'  says  I,  '  the 
captain  (that's  what  most  on  'em  calls  you,  you  know) 
the  captain  and  the  little  gal  was  out  a  walkin'  some  time 
sin',  and  ain't  got  back  yet  so  far  as  I  know.'  This  makin 
up  two  pairs  on  ye  didn't  seem  to  please  the  old  colonel, 
for  he  begun  to  look  serious  and  says,  we  had  better  walk 
out  and  see  that  no.J.hin'  happened  to  his  darter.  From 
being  full  of  talk  and  spirits,  he  begins  to  get  glum 
and  silent  as  we  went ;  and  when  we  reached  the  top  of 
the  bank,  you  know,  jist  where  the  path  winds  down  be 
tween  the  bushes,  he  pulls  me  by  the  sleeve,  and  says, 
'  Wait  a  minute.'  Through  the  bushes  the  Rock  Spring 
was  plain  in  sight.  Hows' ever  no  one  was  near  it ;  but  be- 


AN    ENTIRELY    NEW    PROGRAMME.      331 

yond  there,  where  the  path  follers  along  the  willow  bushes 
clus  under  the  bank,  who  should  we  see  under  a  big  wide- 
limbed  oak-tree  that  hung  out  from  the  hill,  but  the  very 
Major  and  Mary  Ann  herself,  no  doubt  thinking  themselves 
cosy  enough.  And  what  do  you  think  they  was  a  doin'  ?" 

"  I  can  not  imagine,  I  am  sure,"  said  Walcott ;  "  though 
they  are  old  acquaintances  and  school-fellows,  I  believe." 

"  School-fellows  be  hanged !"  exclaimed  Brigham ;  "  if 
they  wasn't  a  makin  of  love  I'm  much  mistaken.  They 
went  through  all  the  motions  mighty  nateral,  I  can  tell 
you.  He  was  at  that  very  minute  a  kissin  her  hand.  I 
obsarved  the  old  colonel  tremble,  and  turn  a  little  pale. 
So  says  I,  feelin  it  wasn't  exactly  right  for  me  to  be  a 
looking  at  sich  an  affair,  says  I,  '  Colonel,  perhaps  I  had 
better  go  and  look  arter  the  rest,  as  we've  found  two  on 
'em.'  '  Do  so,'  says  he ;  and  I  went  back  at  once.  I  see 
no  more  on  'em,  till  a  good  while  arter  when  the  old  man 
came  up  to  the  house,  and  his  darter  along  with  him,  a 
cryin'  and  talkin'  as  if  her  heart  was  going  to  break.  He 
was  mighty  glum  and  stern  for  all  that.  Not  long  arter, 
up  comes  Floyd  too,  but  not  to  go  into  the  house. 

"  '  Brigham,'  says  he,  '  can  you  get  my  horse  out  here 
in  no  time  ?' 

"  '  Yes,'  says  I,  '  but  what  on  arth  is  in  the  wind  ?' 

"  '  Oh  !  nothing  particular,'  says  he,  though  I  could 
see  he  was  terribly  flurried,  and  kept  walking  about  in  a 
kind  of  a  rage.  So  I  axed  no  more  questions,  but  had 
the  hoss  brought,  which  he  mounted  and  rode  off  as  if  the 
devil  was  behind  him.  And  there  you  have  the  whole 
on't,  except  that  after  that  the  colonel  kept  axing  for 
you  and  walking  about  as  impatient  as  Floyd  had  been, 
and  muttering  to  himself,  like.  Something  has  gone 


332  SABATOQA. 

wrong  all  round,  but  where  the  loose  screw  is,  p'raps  you 
can  tell  better  than  I." 

When  Brigham  had  finished  his  recital,  Walcott,  also, 
was  considerably  disturbed,  and  paced  about  uneasily  for 
a  few  moments. 

"I'm  blessed!"  said  Brigham,  "if  I  don't  think 
you  've  all  got  walkin'-fits  this  morning.  If  it 's  catch 
ing  I  may  as  well  be  off,  for  fear  I  shall  find  myself 
walking  a  sentry-beat  too,  before  long.  What 's  got  into 
ye  all  ?  Is  there  any  thing  a  plain  man  can  do  to  set 
things  to  rights?" 

"  I'm  afraid  not,  my  good  friend,"  said  Walcott ;  "I 
think  I  know  what  the  matter  is,  and  those  concerned  will 
have  to  settle  it  among  themselves.  I  am  much  obliged 
to  you,  however,  for  your  friendly  intention.  I  will  just 
take  a  short  turn  by  myself,  and  if  the  colonel  asks  for 
me  you  will  find  me  down  by  the  rock.  I  wish  to  think 
a  little  before  seeing  him." 

"  Sartainly,  sir,"  said  Brigham,  "anything  you  wish. 
And  I  hope  the  trouble,  whatever  it  is,  will  soon  be  made 
up." 

In  a  few  minutes  afterward  Walcott  had  disappeared, 
going  down  the  pathway  which  led  to  the  mineral  spring. 

When  Lucile  went  into  the  apartment  to  which,  as  we 
have  said,  Marion  had  previously  retired,  she  found  the 
latter  sitting  with  swollen  eyes  and  flushed  cheeks,  in 
sadness  and  despondency,  by  the  window. 

:<  Oh,  Lucile  1"  she  exclaimed,  "  how  glad  I  am  to  see 
you  !  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  so  long,  and  have  so 
much  to  say  to  you.  Dear  papa"  (here  the  tender 
hearted  girl  sobbed  bitterly)  "  has  been  offended,  and  I 
don't  know  what  to  say  or  do  !" 


AN    ENTIRELY    NEW    PROGRAMME.      333 

"  What  has  he  said  to  you,  then  ?"  asked  Lucile. 

"  Oh !  it  is  a  long  story.  He  has  scolded  me  for 
walking  out  with  Major  Floyd,  and  has  said  very  harsh 
things  to  Richard  himself,  poor  fellow  !  Oh  !  how  mis 
erable  I  am  !" 

"  But,"  answered  Lucile,  "what  reason  had  he  to 
scold  you  ?  I'm  sure  Major  Floyd  seems  a  very  gentle 
manly  person,  and  he  would  do  nothing  to  merit  reproach 
any  sooner  than  Arthur." 

"  No,  indeed,  he  would  not !  Why,  Lucile,  he  is  the 
most  delicate,  the  most  noble,  the  most  kind-hearted  of 
men!" 

"  But,"  said  Lucile,  suddenly  recollecting  the  supposed 
relation  between  her  friend  and  Walcott,  and  blushing, 
half  with  pain  at  the  thought,  and  half  with  pleasure  at 
the  hope  that  that  relation  was  soon  about  to  be  changed ; 
"but,  you  do  not,  of  course,  like  him  as  you  do  Ar 
thur?" 

"As  I  do  Arthur?"  said  the  other.  "  Why,  Lucile, 
how  can  you  say  such  a  thing  ?  Why  Lucile"  (here  she 
rose  and  caught  her  blushing  companion  fast  in  her  arms, 
then  again  sat  down,  holding  her  on  her  lap  and  hugging 
her  to  her  bosom)  ;  "  Lucile,  you  dear,  delightful  angel ! 
you  love  Arthur  yourself!  There  now,  don't  blush  and 
cry  so,  my  poor  little  darling  !  He  is  nothing  to  me,  and 
he  has  told  me  that  he  loves  you  so  ! — so  dearly !  But, 
as  for  me,  I  am  so  unhappy  !" 

It  was  now  the  turn  of  Lucile  to  become  the  consoler. 
At  what  had  just  been  said  her  heart  had  become  light, 
though  a  tear  still  trembled  in  her  eye.  Her  blood  now 
bounded  along  her  veins  in  joyous  pulsations,  like  dancers 
to  the  beat  of  enlivening  music.  The  melody  of  happiness 


334  SARATOGA. 

was  flowing  through  her  whole  being,  and  even  the  sorrow 
and  dejection  of  her  companion  was  only  a  light  shadow 
over  the  sunshine  of  bliss  which  had  so  suddenly  fallen 
upon  her.  Oh  !  joy  of  joys  !  she  now  might  love  where 
she  knew  herself  to  be  loved  in  return,  but  without 
treachery  to  her  friend,  and  without  shame  before  others ! 
Oh  !  joy  of  joys  !  He,  around  whom  all  her  bright  and 
loving  thoughts  had  of  late  so  much  clustered,  was1, 
in  turn,  enamored  of  her  own  poor,  undeserving  self! 
What  happiness  to  think  of  it !  How  it  might  be  dwelt 
upon  by  day,  and  dreamed  of  by  night ! 

Nevertheless,  toward  Marion  she  felt  all  the  genuine 
sympathy  of  a  true  friend. 

"My  dear  Marion,"  she  exclaimed,  "you  must — in 
deed  you  must — tell  me  all  that  gives  you  sorrow,  and 
you  will  see  how  your  poor  Lucile  can  love  and  watch 
over  you !" 

"  Ah  I  good  and  tender  heart !"  said  the  other,  "  I  knew 
I  could  tell  my  inmost  thought  to  you.  I  love  (she  whis 
pered),  I  love — do  you  hear?  dearly  love  Richard!  and 
papa  has  been  so  unkind  to  him,  and  so  severe  to  me ! 
lie  said  it  was  dishonorable  for  him  to  act  as  he  did, 
knowing  that  I  was  betrothed  to  Arthur !  I  told  my 
father  that  I  and  Arthur  did  not  love  each  other  ;  that  we 
had  parted ;  that  he  belonged  to  you !  But  he  would  not 
listen  to  me,  made  me  take  his  arm,  and  come  away  !  It 
was  too,  too  hard!  And  Richard,  dear  Richard,  I  fear 
has  gone  away  in  sorrow,  and  perhaps  in  anger !  Oh  ! 
how  I  wish  I  had  told  papa  this  morning  how  it  was ! 
But  he  is  so  stern — has  so  set  his  heart  upon  my  mar 
riage  with  Arthur,  that  I  dreaded  to  see  how  he  would 
think  of  a  change.  Oh !  I  am  so,  so  wretched !" 


AN    ENTIRELY    NEW    PROGRAMME.      335 

"  Calm  yourself,  dear  Marion ;  perbaps  when  he  sees 
Arthur,  it  will  all  be  explained." 

"  That  is  what  frightens  me  too.  Arthur  is  so  proud ; 
and  papa  is  so  quick,  I  am  afraid  something  dreadful  will 
be  done !" 

"  No,"  said  Lucile;  "be  sure  nothing  dreadful  shall 
be  done  !  I  will  speak  to  my  father  about  it;  or — or  I 
will  speak  myself  to  your  father,  who  has  never  yet  de 
nied  me  any  thing." 

We  will  not,  however,  for  the  present,  follow  the  train 
of  mutual  condolences  and  explanations  which  took  place 
between  the  two  young  people.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that 
after  a  long  period  of  weeping,  of  sympathy,  of  caressing, 
and  efforts  at  consolation,  the  mind  of  Marion  was  brought 
at  last  to  be  a  little  more  composed ;  and  she  laid  herself 
down  to  obtain,  if  possible,  a  short  period  of  sleep.  Lu 
cile  watched  solicitously  by  her  side.  When  at  length, 
however,  slumber  came  to  close  the  eyes  of  the  excited 
sufferer,  she  softly  stole  from  the  room,  with  the  purpose 
of  doing  as  she  had  half  promised  she  would.  She 
would  see  Colonel  Belden  herself,  and  at  whatever 
sacrifice  of  maidenly  reserve  it  might  cost,  to  explain  to 
him  the  new  and  true  relations,  and  wishes  of  all  con 
cerned.  With  this  object,  she  accordingly  went  forth. 
In  the  outer  room,  she  found  her  father,  reclining  upon  a 
rude  couch  of  pelts,  and  tired  with  his  recent  journey 
and  exertions,  sound  asleep.  She  went  gently  to  his  side, 
kissed  his  trembling  lips,  parted  the  thin  white  locks  on 
his  forehead,  and,  breathing  a  prayer  of  blessing  over 
him,  went  out. 

The  day  was  already  over.  All  objects  were  dim  in 
the  growing  shadows  of  evening.  To  her  listening  ear, 


SARATOGA. 

a  universal  silence  appeared  to  prevail.  During  her  short 
sojourn  there,  she  had  become  accustomed  to  those  sounds 
which,  in  the  evening,  and  in  the  woods,  are  usually 
heard ;  so  that  they  now  only  seemed  a  part  of  the  dewy 
hush  of  nightfall  itself,  and  in  no  wise  to  drown  or  inter 
fere  with  whatever  other  echo  might  vibrate  through  the 
air. 

Stepping  forth  then,  with  the  bright  stars  just  emerging 
from  the  pearly  luster  of  the  sky,  the  sound  of  distant 
voices  did  not  fail  at  once  to  attract  her  attention.  Not 
doubting  that  they  must  be  from  those  whom  she  sought, 
she  hastened  forward. 

But  before  we  follow  her  steps  further,  we  must  revert. 
for  a  short  space,  to  other  events  which  had  lately  trans 
pired. 

After  a  long  conversation  with  Mr.  Valcour,  Colonel 
Belden  had  left  him  and  gone  forth  with  the  purpose  of 
meeting  Arthur  Walcott.  By  inquiry  of  Brigham,  he 
learned  that  the  young  man  was  somewhere  about  the 
Rock  Spring,  as  it  was  usually  called.  Thither  he  at  once 
bent  his  steps.  As  he  approached,  Walcott,  who  was,  in 
truth,  walking  there,  came  forward  to  meet  him. 

"  You  may  have  observed,  sir,"  the  old  gentleman  be 
gan,  "  that  my  manner  toward  you  since  morning,  has 
slightly  changed.  I  come  now  for  the  purpose  of  having 
a  full  explanation ;  and  I  will  take  it  upon  me  to  say, 
that  unless  some  satisfactory  solution  of  affairs  be  given, 
my  present  deportment  toward  you  must,  for  the  future, 
remain  unchanged." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  answered  Walcott,  "  if  any  thing  I  have 
done  has  caused  an  unfavorable  change  in  your  sentiments 
toward  me.  I  even  think  I  know  to  what  you  would  re- 


AN    ENTIRELY    NEW    PROGRAMME.      337 

fer.  But,  to  prevent  all  misapprehension,  I  beg  of  you 
first  to  state  frankly  and  fully  what  it  is  in  my  conduct 
that  you  disapprove." 

"I  will  first  ask  of  you,  sir,  if  it  be  true  that  you  al 
ready  divine  the  cause  of  my  dissatisfaction,  whether  you 
think  it  quite  manly  or  generous,  to  require  me  to  speak 
plainly  of  so  delicate  a  subject  as  my  daughter's  affections 
and  her  future  welfare?" 

As  we  have  before  had  occasions  to  observe,  Walcott's 
temper  was  none  of  the  gentlest ;  and  the  blood  now 
irounted  into  his  forhead  at  the  words  and  manner  which 
the  old  gentleman  seemed  now  inclined  to  use  toward  him. 

With  some  effort,  however,  he  managed  to  restrain  his 
feelings,  and  he  still  replied  with  forbearance. 

"  I  believe  then,  sir,  that  you  think  I  have  not  treated 
your  daughter  honorably,  or  yourself  with  becoming  re 
spect  ?  If  this  is  so,  I  will  give  you  what  explanation  I 
can ;  and  I  trust  that  you  will  not,  in  the  end,  utterly 
disagree  with  me." 

"  That  is  to  say,"  interrupted  the  testy  colonel,  "that 
you  acknowledge  my  suspicions  to  be  just,  and  you  are 
willing  to  ask  my  permission  to  sneak  out  of  obligations 
which  you  voluntarily  assumed." 

"  Colonel  Belden,"  said  the  young  man,  thus  severely 
pushed,  and  now,  in  his  turn,  becoming  somewhat  excited 
at  the  unjust  imputations  of  the  other,  "  Colonel  Belden, 
I  am  not  accustomed  to  hear  language  such  as  you  see  fit 
to  use,  and  I  beg  of  you  to  remember  the  difference  be 
tween  our  ages.  If  you  can  not  address  me  except 
in  terms  dishonorable  for  me  to  listen  to,  I  shall  beg 
the  privilege  of  terminating  this  painful  interview  ut 
once,  and  here." 
22 


338  SARATOGA. 

"  Painful  to  you,  no  doubt,  it  is,"  replied  the  other; 
"as  painful  as  any  culprit's  exposure;  but  if  you  sup 
pose  that  because  I  am  old  you  can  treat  my  daughter 
with  baseness,  or  me  with  contempt  you  are  much  mis 
taken." 

"  I  beg  of  you,  sir,  for  the  sake  of  your  daughter,  if 
not  for  me,"  replied  Walcott,  "to  refrain  from  such 
language.  Justice  to  her  I  am  determined  to  render, 
even  though  you  load  me  with  injurious  epithets.  When 
that  shall  be  done,  I  shall  feel  more  at  liberty  to  meet 
your  personal  charges,  or  to  leave  you  to  make  them 
to  other  ears  than  mine." 

"This  is  all  very  fine,"  replied  the  irritable  old  man, 
not  unaffected,  however,  by  the  tone  and  bearing  of  Wal 
cott;  "but  where  the  devil  are  your  excuses?  I  can 
hardly  believe  you  have  grown  to  be  a  craven  that 
will  neither  explain  nor  back  up  his  conduct  with  his 
courage  ?" 

"  I  shall  certainly  not  do  the  last,  whether  it  be  neces 
sary  or  not,"  said  Walcott;  "and  if  you  will  but  hear  me 
for  a  moment  you  can  better  judge  of  the  proper  course  to 
be  followed  in  any  case." 

"  Curse  me,"  exclaimed  the  other,  "  but  this  is  almost 
enough  to  drive  one  mad !  Here  you  have  already  had 
half  an  hour,  and  I  am  no  wiser  or  better  satisfied  than 
when  I  first  began." 

"  Unless  you  will  listen,"  said  Walcott,  now  determined 
to  bring  the  interview  to  a  point,  "you  will  never  be 
satisfied.  Your  daughter  and  myself  were  contracted  to 
each  other  when  very  young,  and  when  neither  of  us 
knew  our  own  minds.  We  have  never  been  attached  to 
each  other  as  those  should  be  who  are  to  be  man  and  AY  .fe. 


AN    ENTIRELY    NEW    PROGRAMME.      339 

We  are  not  so  now.  Our  mutual  esteem,  I  trust,  is 
great ;  but  there,  all  feeling  stops.  I  am  now  (excuse  my 
directness)  deeply  attached  to  another.  But  even  tins 
should  not  have  interfered  with  my  honorable  fulfillment 
of  all  obligations  to  you  and  yours,  but  that  Marion  her 
self,  unsolicited  by  me,  and  almost  against  my  entreaties, 
formally  released  me  from  all  ties,  and  almost  gave  me  a 
dismissal.  There,  sir,  you  have  the  whole  story,  which  I 
could  have  wished  to  come  from  other  lips,  but  which  you 
have  thus  rudely  forced  from  mine.  I  am  not  reprehen 
sible  for  feelings  over  which  I  have  no  control ;  but  my 
conduct  I  could  control,  and  did  regulate  according  to  my 
conventional  duty  until  discharged  from  it.  These  are 
all  the  circumstances  with  which  I  have  any  concern,  and 
you  may  now  make  the  most  of  them." 

Having  said  this  the  young  man  turned  to  move  away, 
for  he  felt  pained  and  humiliated  beyond  measure  at  the 
views  which  Colonel  Belden  seemed  determined  to  take 
of  the  matter,  and  the  language  he  seemed  inclined  to 
use  in  reference  to  it. 

"  Stay,  young  man,"  Colonel  Belden  exclaimed,  as  the 
other  was  going  off;  "  am  I  then  plainly  to  understand  that 
all  this  silly  and  romantic  arrangement  has  been  made  by 
you  and  my  foolish  or  generous  daughter,  and  that  with 
out  consulting  me  ?  It  is  easy  enough  to  delude  a  girl — 
to  work  upon  her  sympathy,  or  to  awaken  her  pride ;  but, 
sir,  you  will  find  that  I  am  not  so  easily  disposed  of." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Walcott,  "what  you  mean  by 
working  upon  the  sympathies  of  your  daughter.  God 
knows  I  have  never  done  so !  But  as  you  do  not  seem 
disposed  to  view  the  affair  reasonably,  I  shall  again  beg 
leave  to  withdraw." 


340  SARATOGA. 

""How  the  devil  do  you  expect  to  withdraw  so  long  as 
I  am  here,  and  insist  on  your  staying  till  the  business  is 
settled  ?  You  must  take  me  for  an  old  fool,  indeed  !" 

"  I  take  you,  sir,"  answered  Walcott,  "for  a  gentle 
man  who  is  forgetting  the  respect  due  to  himself,  and  a 
little  of  what  is  due  to  me  ;  but,  above  all,  I  take  you  for 
the  father  of  Marion." 

"Ah!  you  do  all  that,  do  you?  Well,  then,  let  me 
see  what  it  is  you  propose  to  do?" 

"I  propose  to  leave  you,  at  all  events,  till  you  are 
more  yourself." 

Walcott  here  again  turned  to  walk  away. 

The  old  man,  in  bad  humor  from  the  beginning,  and 
more  so  as  he  felt  such  to  have  been  the  case — as  he  saw 
that  the  plans  he  had  so  long  dwelt  upon,  and  considered 
settled,  were  melting  away,  like  frost-work  in  the  sun — that 
a  new  scheme  of  life  for  his  daughter  had  been  thus  un 
expectedly  opened — irritated,  almost  beyond  control,  by 
all  these  circumstances,  stepped  hastily  before  the  young 
man  and,  with  his  cane,  was  about  to  strike  him— an  act 
which  might  have  been  regretted  for  the  life- time  of 
both — when  there  stepped  between  him  and  the  object 
of  his  animosity  another  form  which  induced  him  to 
pause. 

Before  him,  in  fact,  he  now  saw,  in  the  uncertain  light 
of  evening,  the  person  of  Lucile  Valcour — one  of  the 
causes  of  his  suspicions,  and,  as  he  imagined,  one  of 
the  frustraters  of  his  hopes.  But  he  could  not  strike 
her — a  frail  and  gentle  girl.  He  could  not  even  find  it 
in  his  heart  to  speak  harshly  to  her.  In  her  look  and 
bearing  there  was  so  much  of  confidence,  so  much  good 
ness,  so  much  that  was  pure  and  beautiful,  that  the  anger 


AN    ENTIRELY    NEW    PROGRAMME.      341 

of  the  old  man  was  at  once  dissipated.  She  did  not  pause 
to  inquire  what  had  happened.  She  would  not  know  that 
any  thing  unpleasant  had  taken  place.  She  approached 
him  at  once,  arid,  taking  one  of  his  hands  in  hers,  she 
exclaimed : 

"  You  must  come  with  me  a  little  while  now,  dear  sir. 
We  have  all  missed  you  so  much  !  It's  a  pity  if  I  am  to 
be  treated  any  longer  in  this  cavalier  way,  and  not  get 
any  attention  from  you.  You  used  to  like  me  better !" 

"  Why,  Lucile,  my  poor  child,  how  strangely  you  talk. 
You  do  not  know,  perhaps,  that  I  was  engaged — deeply 
engaged  with  Arthur — with  Mr.  Walcott,  and  that  we 
have  important  affairs  to  settle  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  know  all  about  it,"  she  replied  ;  "  but  you 
shall  not  look  sternly  at  me  !  You  shall  not  frighten  me 
as  you  did  Marion !  There  now,  be  good  for  a  little 
while !  I  am  determined  to  stay  by  you  till  I  see  you 
smile  as  you  used  to  at  me." 

"  Lucile,"  said  he,  "I  repeat  that  you  do  not  know 
what  you  are  saying,  or  what  you  interfere  with." 

"I  know,  sir,"  she  replied,  with  spirit,  "that  you 
have  unjustly  wounded  the  feelings  of  the  best  and  ten- 
derest  of  daughters ;  that  you  have  almost  driven  to  des 
peration  one  of  the  best  and  most  honorable  of  men, 
and  are,  perhaps,  on  the  brink  of  doing  the  same  with 
another ;  that  you  are  willing  to  make  enemies  of  all 
who  love  and  esteem  you  best,  merely  for  the  sake  of 
carrying  out  an  old  plan  for  your  daughter's  welfare, 
which  could  now  only  make  her  unhappy  for  life." 

During  this  short  colloquy,  Walcott  had  availed  him 
self  of  the  interruption  which  it  had  caused,  to  take  his 
departure,  as  he  had  intended  to  do  before.  Meanwhile. 


342  SARATOGA. 

the  old  colonel  had  been  slowly  approaching  the  house, 
before  which  they  now  stood. 

"  But  Marion,  the  poor  deluded,  rejected  Marion,  my 
daughter,  what  is  to  become  of  her  ?  What  will  the  world 
say?"  he  asked,  as  if  for  the  first  time,  his  mind  began 
to  contemplate  the  possibility  of  a  change,  and  to  consider 
its  consequences. 

"Have  you  been  so  blind,  sir,"  she  asked,  "as  not  to 
see  that  she  has  for  a  long  time,  probably  unknown  to 
herself,  cherished  the  memory  of  another  much  more  than 
she  regarded  the  actual  presence  of  Walcott?" 

"Whom  do  you  mean?"  the  old  gentleman  asked. 
"You  can  not  mean  Dick,  whom  I  just  now  drove  off, 
with  too  much — precipitation,  perhaps?" 

"  Why,  whom  else  could  I  mean  ?  Did  n't  you  see  that 
he  was  attached  to  Marion ;  and  was  it  kind  or  just  to 
punish  him  for  his  admiration?" 

"  But,  my  lively  young  lady,"  he  replied,  "  that  is  not 
a  precise  statement  of  the  case ;  then,  I  supposed  he  was 
treacherously  endeavoring  to  thwart  me,  and  to  supplant 
Arthur;  and  when  I  came  just  now  to  learn  from  the 
latter  that  it  was  as  good  as  if  it  had  been  an  understood 
thing  between  them,  I  confess  it  was  a  little  too  much  for 
my  patience." 

"  But  it  will  not,  I  hope,  be  too  much  for  your  forgive 
ness,  will  it?  Promise  me  that." 

"Why,  true,"  he  replied,  "when  I  come  to  think  of 
it,  Dick,  after  all,  is  a  very  clever  fellow,  well-bred,  gen 
tlemanly,  possessed  of  fortune  enough  ;  and,  and — by  the 
Lord !  on  the  whole  I  think  I  would  rather  prefer  him !  And 
that  infernal  Arthur — no,  that  won't  do  either.  He's 


AN    ENTIRELY    NEW    PROGRAMME.      343 

not  as  bad  as  that  would  come  to.  Perhaps,  miss,  you  '11 
expect  me  to  apologize  to  him  too?" 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  she  replied  confidently,  "of  course 
you  '11  apologize." 

"No,  I  shall  do  no  such  thing,  then!"  he  answered. 

"  But,  sir,"  she  said,  "  recollect  that  you  almost  struck 
him  !  Think  of  that !  You  would  not  listen  to  him ; 
you  would  not  accept  of  his  explanation ;  you  drove  him 
to  madness  by  your  harshness ;  and  then,  you  almost — 
almost  forgot  that  you  were  a  gentleman,  by  attempting 
to  use  your  cane.  Oh  !  my  good  sir !  Remember,  if 
you  had  done  that — remember,  you  would  never  have 
forgiven  either  yourself  or  him,  unless  he  had  shot  you 
for  it !" 

"I  believe,"  he  now  said,  somewhat  thoughtfully,  "I 
believe  you  are  right,  my  little  monitor,  after  all.  Arthur 
was  always  a  little  high-spirited,  and  I  should  not  have 
pushed  him  quite  so  closely.  But  see  if  he  is  now  in  the 
house,  I  must  make  it  all  right  at  once." 

Lucile  hastened  away  with  a  glad  heart,  but  in  a 
moment  afterward,  returned  to  say  that  he  was  not  there. 
They  then  made  inquiry  of  Brigham  if  he  had  seen  him, 
but  found  that  he  had  not.  All  looked  about  in  the 
vicinity,  but  he  was  nowhere  visible.  At  this  circum 
stance,  Lucile  began  to  look  a  little  blank.  However,  she 
comforted  herself  with  the  hope  that  he  must  soon  return 
from  wherever  he  might  be.  So  they  went  into  the  cabin, 
and  into  the  room  where  the  impatient  Marion  was  wait 
ing  in  anxiety  to  know  what  had  been  the  result  of  Lucile's 
mission.  The  latter  appeared  as  a  messenger  of  joy  and 
forgiveness.  Behind  her  came  Colonel  Belden  already 
almost  reconciled  to  the  new  state  of  things.  With  the 


344  SARATOGA. 

characteristic  selfishness  or  egotism  of  age,  he  had  imagined 
that  nobody's  views  or  wishes  were  to  be  consulted  as  much 
as  his  own.  But  now  when  he  found  his  plans  utterly 
uprooted  he  yielded  before  invincible  necessity,  and  began 
to  face  the  new  prospect  which  arose  in  the  future.  It 
had  soon  begun  to  appear  to  him  in  colors  almost  as  glow 
ing  as  those  of  the  last.  It  was  not  long  before  he  was 
in  the  full  tide  of  pleasing  anticipations  in  regard  to  it. 
So  many  of  the  unselfish  feelings  of  a  father,  however, 
were  awakened  by  the  sight  of  the  swollen  eyes,  the 
trembling  lips,  and  the  sorrowful  attitude  of  his  daughter, 
as  he  came  in,  together  with  her  appealing  glance  of  ap 
prehension,  that  his  heart  began  to  relent,  and  he  felt 
ready  to  accuse  himself  of  having  acted  like  a  brute  in  his 
harsh  deportment  toward  her. 

As  he  approached  her,  one  look  gave  her  an  assurance 
of  this,  and  she  sprang  to  his  arms  exclaiming : 

"  Oh !  my  dear,  good  father !  now  you  forgive  and  love 
your  foolish  and  wicked  child  again !  Oh !  how  good  and 
kind  you  are !  You  must  never  be  so  severe  with  me 
again,  dear  father !  or  it  will  break  my  heart !  But  I 
knew  you  could  not  be  so  long !" 

"Hush!  my  poor  child!"  said  the  old  man,  much 
affected;  "hush!  I  now  know  all.  You  shall  not  have 
any  more  cause  for  apprehension  from  me.  I  see  these 
arrangements  are  still  made  in  spite  of  the  cares  of  foolish 
parents.  But  there  !  Do  n't  blush  and  tremble  again ; 
I  am  not  going  to  chide  you  a  second  time." 

Thus  was  the  domestic  storm  which  had  overshadowed 
the  last  few  hours,  cleared  away.  All  the  prospect  before 
the  young  people  seemed  now  to  be  fair  and  promising. 
No  cloud  obscured  it.  No  cloud?  Stay  a  moment — 


AN    ENTIRELY    NEW    PROGRAMME.      345 

where  was  Richard  ? — and  where  was  Arthur  ?  Where 
was  he,  who,  for  the  last  few  days,  had  been  all  self-denial 
and  self-sacrifice  for  others  ?  Was  he  thus  turned  away 
in  contumely  and  contempt,  when  danger  and  trouble  were 
over? 

He  must  soon  return.  So  they  thought.  No  one  said 
it ;  but  all  thought  it.  Yet  he  did  not  return.  Hours 
passed  by.  It  was  late  at  night.  All  had  sat  up,  with 
out  saying  so,  for  him.  At  last  came  the  hour  of  retire 
ment.  It  was  with  much  uneasiness  that  Colonel  Belden 
and  his  daughter  betook  themselves  to  rest. 

As  for  Lucile,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  her 
pillow  was  bedewed  with  many  tears.  She  apprehended, 
she  knew  not  what ;  and  it  was  long  after  midnight  before 
sleep,  in  mercy,  wrapt  her  senses  in  forgetfulness. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

JOE'S  WIGWAM. 

WALCOTT  left  the  presence  of  Colonel  Belden  with  a 
heart  swelling  with  a  sense  of  injustice,  and  with  the 
proud  determination  to  place  distance  between  himself, 
and  a  chance  of  renewed  insult.  He  had  not  been  fully 
aware  of  the  long-cherished  purpose  which  had  been  frus 
trated  by  the  intrusion  of  another  person  upon  the  scene. 
He  knew  however  that  his  own  ill-considered  designs  had 
been  changed.  He  could  not,  for  all  that,  make  up  his 
mind  even  to  be  a  distant  witness  of  what  he  supposed 
was  about  to  take  place.  What  should  he  do  next  ?  To 
stay  longer  at  Brigham's  was  out  of  the  question.  Be 
sides,  was  there  really  no  ground  for  the  colonel's  re 
proaches  ?  Should  he  not  himself,  before  accepting  the 
dismissal  so  frankly  tendered  to  him  by  the  daughter, 
have  referred  the  subject  to  the  father  for  his  ratification 
and  approval?  Would  it  not,  at  least,  have  been  the 
more  manly  course?  These  questions  Walcott  could 
hardly  answer  satisfactorily  to  himself.  He  suspected 
that  his  new-born  love  had  increased  the  facility  with 
which  old  ties  were  loosened ;  and  caused  the  eagerness 
with  which  he  had  availed  himself  of  the  door  of  escape, 
which  Marion  had  so  generously  opened  for  him.  These 
suspicions  had  much  to  do  in  augmenting  his  present 


•JOE'S  WIGWAM.  347 

discontent.  As  yet  he  did  not  know  of  the  strong  mo 
tives  under  which,  unconsciously  to  herself,  Marion  had 
acted  Had  those  motives  been  known,  no  chains  could 
have  held  him  to  the  fulfillment  of  the  early  betrothal. 
Without  any  other  choice  himself,  the  choice  of  Marion 
alone  would  have  decided  the  question  irrevocably. 

Without  regard  to  the  particular  course  he  was  pursu 
ing,  in  a  fit  of  thoughtfulness  and  abstraction,  he  still 
walked  away.  Before  being  fully  aware  of  it,  he  found 
himself  in  the  dark  woods,  following  a  faint  and  scarcely 
defined  path.  His  feet  could  without  much  difficulty  trace 
it  by  the  soft,  smooth  surface  upon  which  they  trod.  As 
soon  as  he  wandered  in  the  least  degree,  on  either  side  of  it, 
he  encountered  brush  and  brambles  ;  and  so  was  immedi 
ately  warned  to  change  his  course.  This  he  for  some 
time  continued  to  do,  without  giving  much  heed  to  it. 
His  familiarity  with  forest  life  made  him  indifferent  to 
mere  darkness,  and  the  mazes  of  the  wilderness.  At 
length,  however,  the  profound  stillness  began  to  have  an 
effect  even  upon  him.  As  his  other  and  more  painful 
emotions  subsided,  the  vast  obscurity  and  silence  which 
enveloped  him  began  to  assume  a  place  in  his  imagina 
tion,  and  to  occupy  a  little  of  his  attention.  Then,  for 
the  first  time,  he  thought  whither  his  steps  could  be  tend 
ing?  it  was  a  problem  a  little  difficult  to  solve.  By 
what  compass  could  his  course  be  determined,  in  the  ocean 
of  darkness  he  so  incautiously  attempted  to  navigate? 
In  which  way  had  he  started?  He  could  not  tell.  What 
landmarks  had  he  last  observed  ?  He  recollected  none 
except  the  spot  where  he  had  left  Colonel  Belden.  No 
moon  was  shining ;  but  here  and  there  was  visible  a  faint 
and  pale  star.  Here  were  the  compass  and  the  chart ! 


348  SARATOGA. 

The  stars !  How  many,  and  which,  were  to  be  seen  ? 
Then  did  he  begin  to  study  that  vast  volume,  over  which 
magicians  and  astrologers  have  pored  so  many  ages,  and 
io  so  little  purpose.  But  his  investigations  had  a  more 
direct  and  practical  object.  It  was  not  to  pry  into  the 
secrets  of  the  future,  but  to  settle  an  urgent  question  of 
the  present,  that  his  observations  were  made.  For  the 
purpose  of  such  a  solution,  they  did  not  prove  to  be  de 
ceptive.  After  a  few  moments'  consideration  he  was  ena 
bled  to  decide  what  course  he  was  following,  and  by  con 
sequence  the  direction  in  which  he  had  strayed.  He  found 
himself  to  the  south  and  west  of  his  starting-point.  The 
distance  he  had  gone  could  not  have  been  great. 

But  when  this  question  had  been  settled,  a  still  more 
important  one  arose ;  and  that  was,  where  should  he  now 
go  ?  While  he  was  pausing  and  musing  upon  the  subject, 
he  thought  he  heard  a  slight  sound  in  the  path  just  behind 
him.  This  immediately  aroused  him  to  a  more  lively 
sense  of  his  present  situation.  Who  or  what  could  it  be  ? 
He  knew  the  dangers  which  lurked  in  the  midnight  forest 
too  well  to  be  indifferent  to  their  signs.  He  paused  and 
held  his  breath  to  listen.  His  eyes  were  now  useless  sen 
tinels.  Upon  his  sense  of  hearing  alone,  must  he  for  the 
moment  depend.  The  sound  which  had  attracted  his  at 
tention,  faint  and  low,  was  heard  again  once  or  twice,  and 
then  entirely  ceased.  He  continued  to  listen.  It  was 
not  repeated. 

Here  was  a  dilemma.  What  should  he  do?  Walk 
on  ?  By  so  doing,  he  would  be  turning  his  back  to  the 
danger.  Should  he  remain  where  he  was  ?  This  would  be 
but  a  craven  way  of  passing  any  very  long  period  of  time. 
Should  he  walk  back  toward  the  spot  whence  the  sound 


JOE'S  WIGWAM.  349 

proceeded  ?  He  knew  that  if  it  was  some  beast  of  prey, 
there  was  less  likelihood  of  attack,  when  he  faced  it  boldly 
than  in  any  other  position.  This  course  was  then  deter 
mined  upon.  Quietly  but  firmly  he  retraced  his  steps  for 
a  short  distance  along  the  path.  Suddenly  something 
touched  his  shoulder.  He  started  but  made  no  outcry. 
He  felt  it  to  be  a  hand.  A  voice  said : 

"  Where  go,  cap'n  ?" 

"Ha!  Is  that  you,  Joe?"  quietly  asked  Walcott, 
though  in  his  sudden  relief,  he  felt  his  pulse  going  down, 
like  a  sea  after  a  whirlwind. 

"Yes,  cap'n;  but,  I  say,  where  go  so  late?"  answered 
Joe. 

"That's  what  I  hardly  know  myself,"  answered  the 
young  man;  "something  has  happened  which  prevents 
me  from  staying  at  Brigham's  any  longer;  and  I  have 
not  yet  made  up  my  mind  what  to  do." 

Joe  listened  in  silence,  and  continued  to  do  so  for  some 
moments.  He  then  said  : 

"  Why  not  go  to  Joe's  wigwam  ?  Good  to  sleep.  No 
got  far  to  go." 

"  Well,  Joe,  that's  frankly  offered.  I  was  just  think 
ing  of  finding  my  way  up  to  Catfoot's,  but  did  not  know 
exactly  how  far  it  might  be.  So,  as  your  place,  as  you 
say,  is  close  by,  I  will  accept  your  offer." 

Joe  now  led  the  way  forward.  After  a  short  walk, 
they  came  into  a  small  open  space  of  ground.  Here  they 
found  it  much  lighter.  They  could  discern  a  cleared 
area,  comprising  in  all,  about  an  acre.  In  the  center  of 
it,  stood  a  conically  shaped  hut.  so  long,  and  so  invaria 
bly,  the  form  of  the  native  dwelling  of  the  American 
savage.  The  ground  adjoining  app^y^er1,  k>  be  >uider 


350  SARATOGA. 

rude  cultivation ;  and  in  approaching  the  entrance,  they 
passed  through  a  small  patch  of  growing  maize. 

After  they  entered  the  cabin,  a  light  was  soon  struck, 
by  the  aid  of  flints.  An  evening  repast  of  cold  meats 
was  produced.  Every  thing  passed  nearly  in  silence. 
Walcott  felt  moody  and  melancholy ;  and  the  Indian  was 
taciturn  from  nature.  He  was,  however,  hospitable ;  and 
no  necessary  attention  was  omitted.  Of  the  cold  venison 
and  other  rude  condiments,  such  as  parched  and  pounded 
corn,  each  partook  in  silence  and  moderation. 

Was  there  no  danger  for  Walcott,  then,  thus  to  share 
the  hospitality,  and  to  put  himself  in  the  power  of  one  who 
had  so  lately  been  guilty  of  an  act  of  deadly  hostility  ? 
He  felt  none.  On  the  contrary,  he  looked  upon  the  hos 
pitality  as  a  sort  of  pledge  of  good  faith ;  for  the  young 
man  was  of  an  open,  brave,  and  trusting  nature,  where 
merely  his  own  safety  was  concerned.  He  was  self-re 
liant.  Besides,  his  thoughts  were  then  dwelling  on  other 
themes. 

What  should  his  plans  be  for  the  morrow  ?  for  the  next 
week  or  month  ?  for  the  long  future  ?  Did  not  the  lack 
of  Colonel  Belden's  consent  to  its  dissolution  leave  the 
tie  between  him  and  Marion,  in  some  sort,  in  point  of 
honor  at  least,  in  force  ?  He  dreaded  to  think  so.  And 
yet,  after  what  had  just  passed  between  him  and  the  old 
man,  a  resumption  of  former  relations  seemed  nearly  im 
possible.  Had  it  not,  in  fact,  raised  an  insurmountable 
barrier  against  it  ?  He  felt  such  to  be  the  fact.  Until 
some  concessions  were  made ;  until  some  more  conciliatory 
tone  should  be  assumed  toward  himself,  he  would  cer 
tainly  never  move  a  step  backward  toward  amity  and 
ancient  friendship.  Besides,  how  selfish  was  it  for  him, 


JOE'S  WIGWAM.  351 

thus  to  be  dwelling  upon  the  effect  which  his  quarrel  had 
produced,  and  was  to  produce  upon,  himself!  Was  not 
another  now  concerned  ?  Ah  !  the  gentle  Lucile !  How 
soothingly  and  graciously  did  her  image  then  come  back 
to  the  young  man's  memory.  In  that  poor  hut ;  on  that 
low  pile  of  skins ;  in  the  dull  glimmer  of  the  decaying 
fire,  with  rudeness,  and  savageness,  and  desertion  around, 
the  picture  which  his  soul  so  cherished,  made  his  reveries 
as  bright  as  noonday,  and  shone  in  effulgently  upon  his 
heart,  like  the  flash  of  a  distant  signal-rocket  to  a  storm- 
driven  ship.  Yes,  now  the  question  became  different. 
Now  the  feelings  of  another  must  be  consulted.  Could 
he  then,  for  a  vain  quibble  upon  a  mere  punctilio,  hesi 
tate  to  take  such  a  course  as  would  insure  not  only  his 
own  happiness,  but  that  of  one  so  dear  and  deserving  as 
Lucile  ?  He  wa-s  not  the  coxcomb  to  suppose  that  she 
felt  as  deeply  interested  in  the  result  as  himself.  He 
knew  that  she  was  essential  to  his  happiness;  and  he 
imagined,  or  rather  cherished  the  hope  that  his  alliance 
with  Marion  would  be  to  Lucile  a  cause  of  regret,  and  a 
source  of  pain.  Thus  much  the  instinct  of  love  taught 
him.  He  reasoned  with  reference  to  it ;  and  he  acted 
upon  it. 

But,  after  all,  the  question  came  back,  what  was  to  be 
done  ?  His  host  manifested  no  curiosity  to  pry  into  his 
affairs,  but  had  fallen  asleep  like  one  whose  business  for 
the  day  was  over,  and  who,  until  morning,  had  no  other 
vocation  than  that  of  sleeping. 

Left  then  to  his  reverie,  sleep  at  length  fell  upon  Ar 
thur.  The  fire  grew  low,  and  its  dull  light  shone  upon 
the  slumbering  forms  of  the  two  inmates  of  the  cabin, 
whose  deep,  regular  breathing  showed  how  profound  was 


352  SARATOGA. 

the  slumber  in  -which  they  were  wrapped.  At  last  the  blan 
ket  which  served  as  a  door  to  the  cabin  was  slowly  and  cau 
tiously  pulled  aside,  and  the  faint  light  of  the  smoldering 
coals  shone  upon  the  wild  and  haggard  face  of  the  lunatic, 
which  peered  eagerly  in.  A  gleam  of  ferocious  delight  shot 
over  his  grim  countenance  as  he  was  assured  that  his  two 
enemies  were  now  wholly  in  his  power.  Cautiously  lie 
entered  the  cabin,  his  huge  form  casting  a  colossal  shadow 
on  the  poles  and  bark  behind  him.  His  step  was  light 
and  noiseless  as  that  of  a  phantom.  He  bent  by  turns 
over  each  of  the  sleepers,  and  gazed  into  their  faces. 
He  wreathed  his  arms  and  clenched  his  hands  as  -if  eager 
to  strangle  them  where  they  lay.  Some  invisible  influence, 
nevertheless,  withheld  him.  Perhaps  it  was  the  thought 
of  a  more  complete  vengeance. 

He  now  moved  toward  the  decaying  fire,  and,  sitting 
down  by  it,  cast  a  few  dried  leaves  among  the  embers. 
A  momentary  blaze  threw  a  brighter  light  around.  The 
sleepers  slept  on — the  Indian  was  as  motionless,  save  for 
the  regular  heavings  of  his  chest,  as  if  he  slept  the  sleep 
of  death.  Walcott,  on  the  other  hand,  showed  signs  of 
uneasiness.  He  uttered  half  articulate  names.  At  such 
times  the  maniac  would  lend  an  attentive  ear,  and  smile 
as  now  and  then  he  caught  a  word. 

At  length  a  sudden  thought  seemed  to  strike  him.  He 
rose  up,  and  taking  a  half-burned  stick  that  lay  in  the 
ashes,  went  rapidly  toward  the  entrance.  In  a  moment 
more  he  had  disappeared.  At  that  very  instant  of  time, 
and  almost  simultaneous  with  his  disappearance,  there  arose 
through  the  stillness  the  low,  wailing  cry  of  a  wild-cat. 
The  Indian  started  to  his  feet.  Walcott  awoke  also ;  and 
rubbing  his  eyes,  as  he  sat  up,  asked  what  was  the  matter. 


JOB'S  WIGWAM.  353 

Joe  stood  in  a  listening  attitude,  and  only  replied  by 
uttering  the  word  "  Hark  !" 

Immediately  afterward  the  same  cry  was  renewed, 
now  louder  and  more  prolonged  than  before. 

"So,"  said  Walcott,  "it  seems  to  be  nothing  but  a 
wild-cat,  after  all.  What  makes  you  stand  there  that 
way,  Joe,  as  if  you  never  heard  one  before  ?" 

The  Indian;  meanwhile,  seemed  to  be  in  a  state  of 
unusual  perplexity.  He  continued  listening  and  walking 
about  alternately,  as  if  trying  to  make  out  something  he 
did  not  quite  understand.  For  several  times  was  the 
same  cry  repeated.  It  was  some  minutes  before  it  seemed 
to  die  away  in  the  distance.  The  two  men  then  again  lay 
down  and  were  soon  as  soundly  asleep  as  before.  The 
incident  made  but  little  impression  upon  Walcott ;  and  as 
for  the  savage,  though  he  had  seemed  to  be  troubled  at 
che  time,  it  did  not  keep  him  awake. 

Soon  afterward  a  dull,  red  light  appeared  at  one 
corner  of  the  hut,  and  over  it  slowly  rose  a  thin  column 
of  smoke.  Then  a  whiter  and  larger  flame  suddenly 
shot  forth,  and  began  rapidly  to  spread  among  the  dry 
and  combustible  materials  of  which  the  tenement  was 
composed.  The  lunatic,  from  without,  again  pulled  aside 
the  blanket  which  hung  at  the  entrance,  to  gaze  in.  His 
hideous  features  exhibited  a  broad  grin  of  satisfaction  as 
he  watched  the  rapid  increase  of  the  fire,  and  the  con 
tinued  unconsciousness  of  the  sleepers.  The  flames  soon 
began  to  crackle  and  roar  as  they  caught  light  puffs  of 
air.  Heavy  volumes  of  smoke  spread  out  and  filled  the 
apartment. 

At  this  moment,  for  a  second  time  that  night,  was  the 

silence  broken  by  the  cry  of  the  wild-cat.     It  seemed  to 
23 


354  SARATOGA. 

issue  from  some  point  close  under  the  side  of  the  cabin, 
and  near  to  where  the  two  men  lay.  It  struck  their  ears 
louder  and  more  startling  than  ever. 

The  cloth  at  the  door  dropped.  The  face  of  Jacob  had 
disappeared.  The  two  inmates  were  already  on  their  feet. 
The  savage,  with  an  instinct  which  served  him  for  presence 
of  mind,  sprang  for  his  gun  and  the  few  articles  of  value 
he  possessed,  which  he  succeeded  in  seizing;  while  Walcott, 
half  blinded  and  half  suffocated  by  the  smoke,  groped  his 
way  with  difficulty  to  the  passage,  and  managed  to  get 
out.  Both  escaped  the  danger  which  had  so  nearly 
threatened  them. 

By  this  time  the  fire  almost  entirely  enveloped  the  hut. 
In  a  few  seconds  more,  if  not  aroused,  they  must  inevi 
tably  have  perished.  But  what  was  the  cause  of  this 
unexpected  conflagration?  How  could  it  have  origin 
ated  ?  Here  was  the  mystery.  What  was  it,  also,  that 
so  providentially  awoke  them?  They  could  scarcely 
imagine. 

"  That  wild-cat  has  saved  our  lives,  after  all,  Joe,"  said 
Walcott,  after  a  moment. 

/'Wild-cat?"  answered  the  savage  interrogatively. 
"Don't  know — catamount  not  like  fire,  don't  come  so 
close." 

"  It  is  certainly  all  very  strange,"  said  Walcott ;  "  but 
the  most  remarkable  thing  about  it  is,  that  we  were  start 
led  once  before  by  the  same  cry." 

"  Can't  make  him  out — too  dark  for  Joe,"  said  the 
other. 

At  this  time,  the  woods  for  some  distance  around,  were 
illuminated  by  the  light  of  the  fire.  The  black,  tall,  and 
columnar  trunks  of  the  older  trees,  stood  out  like  the 


JOE'S  WIGWAM.  355 

pillars  of  temples.  Now  and  then,  afar  off  could  be  seen 
the  scudding  forms  and  flashing  eyes  of  the  wolves ;  as 
startled  by  the  fire,  and  still  attracted  to  it,  they  skirted 
along  the  outer  verge  of  the  light.  But  another  object 
soon  diverted  attention  from  them ;  for,  near  to  where  the 
two  men  stood,  something  suddenly  arose  from  the  ground 
which  caused  them  both  to  start.  It  was  the  form  of  a 
man,  clothed  in  the  Indian  garb,  and  carrying  in  his 
hand  a  gun.  At  his  back  hung  an  unstrung  bow,  and  a 
well  garnished  quiver ;  and  in  his  belt  were  stuck  his 
knife  and  ax.  His  head  was  decorated  with  an  eagle's 
feather ;  and  his  countenance  was  covered  with  paint  cu 
riously  put  on,  one-half  of  it  being  tinged  with  a  bright 
crimson  color,  and  the  other  half  being  left  untouched. 
Over  his  eyes,  and  across  his  forehead,  were  streaks  of 
red  and  black. 

As  this  remarkable  personage  slowly  approached,  in 
full  relief,  from  the  bright  light  of  the  fire,  Walcott  could 
not  help  regarding  him  with  unmingled  astonishment. 
Joe,  on  the  contrary,  manifested  no  surprise,  uttering 
quietly,  by  way  of  clearing  up  the  matter,  the  name  of 
the  new  comer.  It  was  Catfoot.  Some  time  elapsed  be 
fore  the  young  man  could  recognize  in  what  stood  before 
him,  the  form  and  features  of  his  Indian  friend.  In  his 
extreme  surprise,  he  was  hardly  sufficiently  self-possessed 
to  give  him  a  greeting.  Joe  himself  said  nothing,  but 
began  to  wear  a  suspicious  and  scowling  look. 

A  thought  at  onco  occurred  to  Walcott ;  could  it  have 
been  Catfoot  that  set  fire  to  the  hut '(  And  even  if  ho 
had  not  done  so,  he  had,  at  least,  been  near  at  hand,  and 
why  had  he  not  given  timely  warning  ?  These  suspicions 
had  evidently  occurred  to  Joe  also ;  and  he  already  began 


ft 

356  SARATOGA. 

to  handle  his  gun  with  signs  of  hostility.  Observing 
these  manifestations,  Catfoot  dropped  his  rifle  to  the  ground, 
and  stood  regarding  the  two  men  with  composure,  though 
without  vouchsafing  any  explanation. 

"  Catfoot,"  at  length  said  Walcott,  "  why  are  you  here 
and  in  this  strange  disguise  ?" 

"  Come  in  war-paint — you  see  him,"  was  the  reply. 

"Not  to  make  war  on  Joe,  I  hope?"  continued  Wal 
cott. 

" No;  Joe  put  on  paint  too,"  replied  the  other. 

"  But,"  said  the  young  man,  "  I  hope  you  did  'nt  set 
fire  to  the  hut  to  make  Joe  put  on  war-paint?" 

To  this,  the  other  made  no  reply,  either  in  contempt  of 
the  suspicion  indulged  against  him,  or  being  determined 
not  to  answer  the  indirect  inquiry. 

"I would  not  have  believed  such  a  thing  of  you,  Cat- 
foot,"  said  Walcott,  after  a  pause,  half  in  sorrow  and 
half  in  rage. 

"  Did  'nt  do  him,  tell  you.  Catfoot  no  burn  wigwam," 
the  Indian  now  replied,  with  some  energy. 

"But  you  saw  it  burning,  and  did  not  give  us  any 
warning?"  continued  Walcott. 

"  No  hear  wild-cat,  eh  ?"  said  the  chief,  now  turning 
sharply  to  Joe,  "  no  hear  him,  you  big  fool  Injin?" 

The  latter  here  fairly  dropped  his  gun  in  the  extremity 
of  his  surprise.  Light  was  breaking  in  upon  his  mind. 
The  mystery  was  also  clearing  up  for  Walcott.  The  cry 
had  been  uttered  by  the  chief  by  way  of  warning.  Its  very 
naturalness  had  deceived  the  white  man,  and  mystified 
the  Indian,  though  it  had  not  quite  satisfied  him.  Hence 
his  perplexity.  But  why  had  not  Catfoot  come  boldly 
forward  to  announce  the  danger?  Why  had  he  gone 


JOB'S  WIGWAM.  357 

away  ?    And  above  all,  how  did  the  fire  originate  ?    To  all 
the  above  questions,  they  received  but  the  one  laconic  reply, 

"  Wild  Jake." 

The  madman,  it  would  seem,  was  still  held  in  awe  by 
Catfoot.  It  was  fear  of  him  that  had  prevented  him  from 
continuing  his  first  warning  after  the  lunatic  went  out ; 
and  as  the  fire  had  been  applied  on  another  side  of  the 
hut,  he  was  only  actually  apprised  of  it  in  time  to  save 
his  friends  by  a  second  warning. 

But  the  question  now  arose,  where  could  Jacob  in  the 
mean  time  have  flown  to  ?  It  was  most  likely  that  he  was 
still  somewhere  near  at  hand  watching  the  effect  of  his 
plans.  The  three  men  began  now  to  look  sharply  about 
them.  The  two  savages,  with  the  instinct  of  hounds,  at 
once  spread  out,  examining  every  thing  which  might  give 
a  clew,  and  casting  quick  glances  in  all  directions  among 
the  shadowy  trees. 

A  few  minutes  after  they  commenced  their  search,  a 
long  dark  object  arose  out  of  the  little  field  of  corn  near 
the  burning  cabin  ;  and  as  their  eyes  fell  upon  it,  they  saw 
it  glide  rapidly  away,  while  shortly  afterward,  the  usual 
shrieks  and  jeers  of  the  lunatic  apprised  them  that  it  was 
he  himself  whom  they  had  started  from  his  lair. 

With  a  speed  and  power  they  had  no  hope  of  equaling, 
he  soon  disappeared  among  the  shadows  of  the  woods.  Joe, 
however,  again  sent  after  him  a  quicker  messenger  than 
himself,  in  the  shape  of  a  leaden  slug  from  his  rifle ;  but 
it  was  apparently  without  any  result ;  for  as  the  rever 
berations  of  the  report  died  away,  the  sounds  of  distant 
peals  of  laughter  were  heard  until  in  their  turn  they 
mingled  with  the  hum  of  insects  and  the  cries  of  animals, 
and  became  indistinguishable. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

THE    WAR    PATH. 

THE  present  village  of  Saratoga  Springs  stands,  for  the 
most  part,  upon  the  lower,  and  almost  level,  termination 
of  a  long  mountain  spur.  The  soil,  though  soft,  is  not 
deep ;  but  is  sprinkled  thinly  over  a  rough  bed  of  lime 
stone.  A  little  to  the  northward  the  rise  in  the  ground 
becomes  very  perceptible  ;  and  at  the  distance  of  a  mile 
or  so  in  that  direction,  one  attains  a  height  which  com 
mands  a  clear  view  of  a  wide  extent  of  country. 

At  the  east,  and  to  the  south,  the  land  for  leagues  and 
leagues  away,  is  almost  one  dead  level ;  at  least,  from  this 
elevation,  so  it  appears  to  the  eye.  In  the  former  direction 
in  an  autumn  morning,  one  can  easily  trace  the  long 
winding  course  of  the  far-off  Hudson,  by  the  bank  of  fog 
which  hangs  above  it ;  while  beyond  it,  at  a  vast  distance, 
rises  the  dim,  rolling  outline  of  the  Green  Mountains. 
Nearer  at  hand,  like  a  white  cloud  in  the  hazy  landscape, 
lies  Saratoga  Lake. 

But  from  the  eminence  we  have  mentioned,  by  far  the 
finest  and  most  extensive  view  lies  directly  to  the  south. 
Thither  the  spread  of  the  level  country,  at  a  first  glance, 
seems  almost  illimitable.  Field  and  forest,  in  irregular 
succession,  stretch  away  in  green  and  golden  alternations, 
till  they  become  commingled  and  indistinguishable  in  the 


THE    WAR    PATH.  359 

distance.  On  sultry  summer  days,  when  mist  and  smoke 
are  floating  in  the  air,  the  line  of  the  horizon  can  hardly 
be  discerned ;  but  on  a  clear  morning,  or  when  the  sky 
is  blue,  and  the  cool  fresh  wind  is  breathing  from  the 
west,  the  eye  discovers,  a  long  way  to  the  southward,  and 
quite  above  the  line  on  which  the  horizon  is  expected  to 
be  found,  a  dim,  round,  waving  line  of  blue.  This  is  the 
crest  of  the  Catskill  Mountains,  nearly  one  hundred 
miles  away :  the  mountains  where  old  Hendrick  Hudson 
and  his  grim  companions,  are  still  supposed,  on  a  cloudy 
evening,  to  be  playing  at  their  old  game  of  bowls  !  May 
the  echo  of  their  gigantic  sport,  long  resound  through 
those  distant  wooded  valleys,  and  roll  along  those  ancient 
enchanted  eminences!  To  the  westward,  lies  a  country 
still  beautiful,  but  more  broken,  and  terminated  at  a  short 
distance  by  a  high  spur  of  hills,  abruptly  shutting  off  the 
view.  Behind  them,  the  sun  frequently  goes  down  in  a 
magnificent  halo  of  crimson  and  gold. 

Between  the  time  of  which  we  are  writing  and  the 
present  day,  a  great  change,  has,  of  course  taken  place, 
not  only  in  the  character  of  the  adjacent  country,  but  in 
the  appearance  of  this  space  of  elevated  ground  itself. 
Then  the  whole  surrounding  view  was  one  of  wilderness, 
and  the  eminence  itself  was  covered  with  a  luxuriant 
growth  of  hickories  and  oaks,  whose  trunks  were  covered 
with  moss,  and  whose  vast  roots,  clinging  to  the  huge 
rocks  at  their  feet,  had  resisted  the  power  of  rushing 
winds  and  heaving  frosts,  through  summer  and  winter,  for 
hundreds  of  years.  The  ground  was  encumbered  with 
large,  broken  stones,  or  rough  boulders  of  granite ;  from 
beneath  and  around  which,  sprang  thick  and  thorny 
brambles,  and  from  whose  hollows  and  cavities,  green  and 


360  SARATOGA. 

spotted  toads  and  reptiles,  crawled  forth  to  bask  in  the 
morning's  sun. 

Now,  the  same  spot  is  a  rich  and  cultivated  lawn.  The 
trees  have  disappeared.  The  rocks  have  been  rolled  away 
to  form  the  foundations  of  edifices,  fences  and  landmarks. 
Instead  of  reptiles,  are  to  be  seen  groups  of  peaceful  kine 
grazing  in  the  quiet  inclosures.  A  noble  mansion  crowns 
the  high  ground,  and  looks  off  upon  the  magnificent  pros 
pect  we  have  feebly  endeavored  to  describe. 

A  gentleman,  lately  deceased,  who,  during  his  long  and 
useful  career,  was  no  less  eminent  for  his  cultivated  tastes, 
than  for  his  courteous  manners  and  his  private  worth,  has 
made  of  that  once  rude  and  unpromising  elevation,  one  of 
the  most  charming  places  of  resort,  and  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  country-seats  which  can  be  imagined. 

But  our  purpose  was  not  to  draw  a  landscape,  or  even 
to  bring  a  contrast  before  the  mind  of  the  reader.  It  was 
merely  to  call  attention  to  a  scene  which  was  represented 
at  this  place  a  long  while  ago — a  scene  which  may  in  some 
sort  serve  to  give  a  better  idea  of  the  ancient  inhabitants 
of  this  rude  land,  of  the  manners  which  distinguished  them, 
and  of  the  maxims  by  which  they  were  guided. 

But  we  have  a  few  more  words  to  say  by  way  of 
description. 

The  upland,  or  elevated  ridge  of  which  we  have  spoken, 
extends  for  many  miles  to  the  northward,  rising  higher 
and  higher  as  it  recedes,  until  it  terminates  in  the  rocky 
and  precipitous  mountains  which  surround  Lake- George. 
The  name  by  which  it  was  in  former  days  most  familiarly 
known,  was,  we  believe,  the  Palmertown  Mountain.  For 
nearly  its  whole  extent  it  presents  a  steep,  rough  and 
abrupt  front  to  the  eastward. 


THE    WAR    PATH.  361 

On  that  side,  and  between  it  and  the  Hudson  river, 
lies  a  broad,  sandy  plain,  which  was  formerly  covered  with 
a  heavy  growth  of  pine.  This  plateau  is  entirely  over 
looked  by  the  upland  spoken  of.  To  a  person  traveling 
over  it  from  the  eastward,  the  latter  presents  a  dark,  wall- 
like  front  in  the  distance,  reminding  one  of  the  palissades 
on  the  western  bank  of  the  Hudson,  near  New  York. 
Along  the  top  and  eastern  margin  of  this  mural  elevation, 
formerly  extended  a  well-known  and  much  used  Indian 
pathway  or  trail.  It  was  indeed  one  of  their  great  highways, 
being  the  route  traversed  by  the  warlike  parties  that  went 
to,  and  came  from  the  great  lakes  and  hunting-grounds 
of  the  north.  For  such  a  use,  it  possessed  many  advan 
tages  ;  it  commanded  a  wide  lookout,  and  was  but  little 
exposed  to  ambuscades ;  and  the  woods  along  the  height 
were  a  favorite  resort  of  game.  Security  and  a  supply 
of  provisions  were  therefore  its  great  recommendations. 

Near  to  this  trail,  and  about  a  mile  from  the  present 
limits  of  the  village  of  Saratoga,  was  a  rocky  boulder, 
remarkable  for  its  size  and  height.  It  may  answer  the 
purpose  of  a  natural  watch-tower.  Let  us  take  up  our 
position  upon  it,  and  observe  what  is  passing,  at  the  period 
in  our  story  at  which  we  have  arrived. 

We  find  ourselves  on  the  western  side  of  the  pathway, 
and  considerably  elevated  above  it.  We  can  look  far  away 
to  the  eastward,  where  the  morning  sun  is  just  making  its 
appearance,  with  half  its  disc  already  above  the  horizon. 
The  sky  is  red  and  effulgent.  In  the  bush,  near  at  hand, 
we  hear  the  occasional  twitter  of  a  bird.  Through  the 
open  boughs  below  us,  we  can  trace  the  indistinct  outline 
of  a  beaten  path.  The  ground  is  not  visible  anywhere ; 
but  the  pine  leaves  and  twigs  are  trodden  hard  and  smooth. 


362  SARATOGA 

The  branches  of  the  underbrush  do  not  obstruct  the  view ; 
but  as  the  path  winds  among  the  timber  and  the  rocks, 
it  nowhere  presents  an  extended  vista  to  the  eye. 

All  at  once  we  perceive  a  long  line  of  moving  objects 
approaching.  The  distance  and  the  imperfect  light  pre 
vent  us  at  first  from  ascertaining  its  true  character ;  but 
as  it  comes  nearer,  we  perceive  that  it  is  a  file  of  Indian 
warriors,  coming  on,  at  a  long,  steady  trot,  up  the  path 
way.  They  present  a  motley,  but  at  the  same  time,  a 
picturesque  appearance ;  and  there  is  seriousness  and  sig 
nificance  of  purpose  in  their  aspect. 

The  foremost  man  is  our  old  acquaintance,  Catfoot. 
The  garb  and  paint  with  which  he  is  now  bedecked,  set 
off  to  great  advantage  his  muscular  frame  and  fine  athletic 
limbs.  On  his  head,  and  plaited  in  with  his  hair,  is  a  tuft 
of  feathers.  A  rude  sort  of  cloak  or  mantle,  composed 
of  differently  colored  panther  skins,  is  thrown  over  his 
shoulders,  and  secured  round  his  waist  by  a  strong  cord 
of  twisted  sinews.  A  similar  cord  secures  it  loosely  to 
his  throat.  His  broad  chest  itself  is  exposed,  covered 
with  hieroglyphical  objects,  rudely  painted  upon  it,  no 
doubt,  having  reference  to  the  immediate  expedition  in 
which  he  is  engaged.  From  his  waist  depends  a  short 
skirt  or  frock,  terminating  at  the  knees ;  and  his  feet  are 
protected  as  usual  by  moccasins,  fastened  around  his 
ankles  by  a  thong,  and  ornamented  with  colored  beads. 

Behind  him,  follow  the  others  in  single  file.  Each  is 
fantastically  set  off,  though  none  wears  a  plume  of  feathers 
except  the  leader.  The  others  generally  have  their  hair 
gathered  and  tied  in  a  single  tuft  on  the  top  of  the  head. 
All  are  provided  with  weapons,  and  some  with  fire-arms. 
Where  these  last  are  not  to  be  seen,  are  still  the  bow  and 


TUB    WAR    PATH.  363 

arrow,  the  formidable  tomahawk,  and  the  inevitable  scalp 
ing  knife.  In  short,  the  whole  body  of  savages  is  fully 
equipped  for  war.  As  they  pass  by,  no  look  apparently 
is  turned  to  the  right  or  to  the  left.  Gravity  and  single 
ness  of  purpose  are  depicted  on  their  countenances,  and 
are  even  indicated  in  their  gait  and  movements.  '•« 

And  now,  like  a  long  mottled  snake,  the  winding,  artic 
ulated  file  of  men  goes  up  the  acclivity  further  on,  twist 
ing  itself  around  rocks  and  other  obstructions,  and  pre 
serving  its  uniform  velocity,  whatever  the  nature  of  the 
ground  may  be.  In  a  moment  more  the  dusky  armament 
has  gone  by,  and  disappeared.  Woe  to  the  unprotected 
settlement  upon  which  that  merciless  train  of  savages 
shall  descend,  with  a  purpose  as  fell  as  that  of  the  reptile 
its  motions  imitate ! 

But  the  days,  fortunately,  when  such  enemies  were  let 
loose  on  civilized  communities  were  already  passed  away. 
The  war  now  on  foot  was  only  one  of  the  incessant  feuds 
which  took  place  among  the  native  tribes — feuds  which 
no  treaty  or  example  could  suppress  or  mitigate,  and  in 
which  cunning  and  stratagem,  cruelty  and  ferocity,  went 
forth  to  meet  their  like  in  the  enemy  they  encountered. 

On  the  evening  before,  a  runner  from  some  distant 
station  had  arrived  with  news  which  set  all  the  warriors 
of  the  hamlet  on  foot  and  away  thus  early  in  the  morning. 
Among  them  our  friend  Catfoot,  of  whose  good  faith, 
prowess,  and  forest  skill,  we  have  had  a  little  taste,  is  dis 
appearing,  to  engage  in  struggles  and  enterprises  peculiar 
to  his  race.  The  row  of  silent  warriors  has  passed  with 
as  little  noise  as  the  rustling  of  a  lady's  dress  through  the 
aisles  of  a  church ;  and  now,  in  the  distance,  as  the  last 
brown  and  tufted  scalp  goes  out  of  sight  behind  yonder 


364  SARATOGA. 

rocks,  repose  again  takes  possession  of  the  scene.  The 
whole  was  but  a  passing  and  almost  a  silent  pageant.  In 
a  few  moments  it  has  come  and  gone,  and  it  has  hardly 
disappeared  before  the  dilatory  morning  sun,  like  a  ship 
unmoored,  swings  clear  of  the  horizon  and  sails  slowly 
away  on  its  diurnal  voyage  through  the  sky. 

The  small  Indian  village,  of  which  mention  has  from 
time  to  time  been  made,  was  now  comparatively  deserted. 
All  the  males  capable  of  action  had  joined  the  expedition 
whose  departure  has  just  been  noted.  The  old  men,  wo 
men,  children  and  dogs,  were  the  occupants  who  were  left 
behind ;  and,  although  the  population  was  thus  materially 
diminished,  those  who  remained  seemed  capable  of  making 
quite  as  much  clatter  and  noise  as  all  who  had  been  there 
before. 

Upon  a  fallen  tree  near  one  of  the  huts  Walcott  and 
Indian  Joe  were  sitting,  engaged  in  earnest  conversation. 
After  the  burning  of  the  hut  on  the  night  before,  both  had 
come  up  to  the  village,  where  they  at  present  found  them 
selves.  In  doing  so,  Walcott  had  been  enabled  to  thank 
Catfoot  for  his  disinterested  assistance,  and  to  press  upon 
him  such  tokens  of  his  good  feeling  as  would  not  offend 
the  pride  of  the  chief.  They  had,  accordingly,  parted  in 
high  good  will  toward  each  other,  and  with  mutual 
esteem.  Indian  Joe  could  not  be  persuaded  to  join  the 
war-party.  Some  motive  more  powerful  than  love  of  war 
restrained  him.  What  it  was  will  appear  in  due  time. 
-  "Joe,"  said  Walcott,  as  they  sat  side  by  side,  "what 
do  you  say  to  a  hunt  after  this  crazy  man  again,  one  of 
these  days  ?  He  has  done  a  great  deal  of  mischief  al 
ready,  and,  unless  he  is  caught,  he  is  likely  to  do  much 
more." 


THE    WAR    PATH.  365 

{*  When  you  want  go?"  asked  the  other. 

"I  can  not  now  say,"  replied  Walcott;  "it  would  be 
well  to  have  Brigham  along,  and  I  do  not  like  to  try  it 
until  the  people  at  his  house  have  gone  away,  when  there 
will  be  nothing  to  be  feared  on  their  account." 

"Cap'n,"  said  the  Indian,  "Jake  burn  Joe's  wig 
wam." 

"  Well,  what  if  he  did  ?"  asked  Walcott. 

"  I  shoot  Jake,  that 's  all,"  replied  the  other,  doggedly. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  do  it,  Joe ;  remember  he  is 
crazy,  and  don't  know  what  he  is  about." 

"  Do  n't  know — tink  he  de  debbill,  so  shoot  him  if  can." 

Walcott  endeavored,  but  in  vain,  to  dissuade  the  savage 
from  the  resolution  upon  which  he  seemed  to  be  fixed ; 
but  did  not  again  attempt  to  assume  a  peremptory  tone, 
after  what  had  lately  passed  between  them,  and  after  the 
ill  effects  of  his  former  effort  in  that  way. 

While  they  were  yet  talking,  the  voice  of  Brigham  was 
heard,  speaking  in  loud  and  familiar  tones  to  the  old 
crones  and  impish  urchins  lie  met,  as  he  came  along. 

"Hooray!"  he  exclaimed,  "old  mother  white-top. 
How 's  yer  roomatiz  this  mornin'  ?  And  so  loping 
Hank  has  gone  off  with  the  rest,  the  varmint !  I  hopo 
he  left  you  plenty  of  deer-meat  and  fish  before  startin'. 
But,  I  say,  hain't  none  on  ye  seen  Joe  anywhere  about  ? 
For  I'm  telled  he  didn't  jine  the  scalpin' -party.  And 
there's  the  captain,  that  some  on  ye  must  have  fell  in 
with,  for  he 's  missin'  ever  sin'  last  night  when  he  went 
out  for  a  walk,  like.  Heh  !  what?  and  so  he's  here,  is 
he?  With  Joe,  too,  I  suppose?" 

Talking  in  this  way,  Brigham  soon  came  in  sight  of 
those  for  whom  he  was  seeking. 


366  SARATOGA. 

"  You  make  as  much  noise  as  a  company  of  marching 
recruits,  Brigham,"  said  Walcott,  rising  up  and  going 
forward  to  meet  him.  "You  herald  your  approach  by 
trumpet,  if  not  by  drum." 

"I  wish  then,  Mr.  Walcott,"  he  answered,  "  that  you 
had  heralded  your  whereabouts  in  the  same  plain  way, 
for  I've  been  on  the  sarch  for  ye  these  two  hours." 

"  And  you  have  found  me  out  at  last,  my  friend,  and 
so  what  is  it  you  want  ?" 

"Oh!  you're  wanted  by  others  than  me,  and  have 
been  inquired  arter  more  than  a  little.  The  case  is  here. 
You  know — or  if  you  do  n't  know,  I  can  now  tell  ye — that 
your  friend,  Major  Floyd,  took  horse  yesterday  afternoon 
and  started  for  Schuyler's.  He  went  off  sudden,  like  a 
lighted  fusee,  and  nobody  knew  much  on 't  till  they  saw 
the  dust  of  his  horse's  heels  risin'  behind  him,  like  smoke. 
Well,  so  far  so  good ;  but  this  morning  what  do  we  see 
but  his  horse  quietly  grazin'  near  the  house  as  if  nothing 
had  happened.  But,  you  see,  the  misfortin'  on  it  was 
that  he  had  the  saddle  on  him  still,  though  now  turned 
under  him.  and  with  the  bridle  draggin'  about  his  neck, 
and  broke  in  two.  It  looked  mighty  queer.  I  hope  it 
ain't  no  more  of  that  cussed  Jake's  doin's,  for  if  I  thought 
it  was,  I  'd  shoot  him  myself!  I  'm  told  he 's  burned  you 
out,  Joe,  clean  and  clear  ?  But,  to  come  to  the  business  in 
hand,  somebody  must  start  at  once  after  the  poor  Major, 
^  and  see  what  has  happened.  I  hoped  to  find  Catfoot,  but 
the  'tarnal  fool  has  got  some  scent  of  Canada  Injuns  in  his 
nostrils,  and  you  might  as  well  try  to  keep  a  wolf  from 
fresh  meat  as  to  stop  him.  So,  you  see,  what  are  we  to  do  ?" 

"  Is  there  any  horse  left  at  the  sheds  fit  to  be  mounted  ?'' 
a^ked  Walcott. 


THE    WAR    PATH.  367 

''Yea,  there's  one  good,  strong  roadster,  but  we  want 
a  pair,  and  there  ain't  any  other  fit  to  keep  up  with  this 
one." 

"  Then,"  said  Walcott,  "I'll  take  this  one  and  go  alone. 
It  will  be  all  that  is  required.  You  can  remain — one  of 
us  must  remain  behind.  I  '11  be  back  in  a  very  short 
time;  but  in  the  meanwhile,  let  us  hurry  down  to  the 
house." 

They  accordingly  started  in  that  direction.  As  they 
proceeded,  Walcott  recollected  what,  for  the  moment,  had 
been  driven  from  his  mind  by  the  news  in  regard  to  Floyd — 
namely,  the  ill-footing  upon  which  fie  stood  with  Colonel 
Belden,  and  that  it  might  be  very  unpleasant  to  meet  him. 

"  Brigham,"  said  he,  "  I  don't  exactly  like  to  meet  the 
colonel  now ;  he  and  I  had  some  high  words  yesterday, 
and  I  hardly  know  how  to  manage  it.  I  suppose  he  is 
naturally  anxious  a  little  about  the  fate  of  Floyd  ?" 

"  Oh  1  you  be  hanged  about  meetin'  the  colonel !"  said 
Brigham.  "He'll  be  glad  enough  to  see  you,  depend 
on't;  and  whether  he  will  or  not,  his  darter  has  been  a 
cryin'  and  going  on  all  the  morning  to  find  you.  She 
seems  to  take  the  news  mighty  bad ;  and  I  half  thought 
she  'd  be  off  in  the  pursuit  herself  alone,  one  spell." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  she  is  much  alarmed  about  it.  They 
are  old  play-fellows,  I  believe,  she  and  Floyd,"  said 
Walcott. 

"  Much  alarmed?"  replied  Brigham ;  "I  should  think 
she  was,  if  takin'  on  dreadful,  is  any  sign  on't.  Why  she's 
been  a  cryin'  as  if  her  heart  was  ready  to  break.  But 
from  the  dry  way  you  talk  about  it,  one  would  think 
you'd  walked  among  these  people  with  your  eyes 
shut." 


368  SARATOGA. 

"  What  is  it  you  are  driving  at,  Brigham?  What  was 
to  be  seen  that  has  escaped  me?" 

"  Come  now,  you  're  makin'  fun  of  me !"  said  Brigham. 
"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  think  her  anxiety  is  only 
as  to  the  fate  of  her  school-fellow  ?  Why  she  did  n't 
make  so  much  ado  when  the  other  gal  was  in  the  cave 
with  Jake." 

These  questions  began  at  last  to  start  a  new  train  of 
thought  in  Walcott's  mind.  He  had  never  before  endeav 
ored  to  consider  the  subject  in  the  new  light  which  now 
broke  upon  him.  The  state  of  things  implied  by  Brigham 
was  certainly  not  improbable;  nay,  when  he  came  to 
think  of  the  matter,  was  highly  probable — was  almost  a 
certainty. 

Shall  we  say  that  a  twinge — a  very  slight  twinge — of 
regret,  or  jealousy,  or  annoyance,  or  something  of  that 
nature,  was  felt  by  the  young  man,  as  the  thought  took 
possession  of  Ins  mind  that,  after  all,  Marion  had  made  no 
sacrifice  in  giving  him  up ;  but  had  been  all  the  while  fol 
lowing  out  the  secret  bent  of  her  own  heart  ?  Alas  !  such 
is  human  nature.  What  he  could  most  have  wished,  when 
he  found  it  to  have  actually  occurred,  still  occasioned  him 
pain.  But  generosity  and  justice  soon  got  the  better  of 
less  worthy  feelings.  His  vanity  had  been  wounded ;  but 
the  wound  was  a  cure  for  the  many  apprehensions  he  had 
entertained.  His  own  qualifications  had  not  proved  so 
dazzling  as  to  outshine  those  of  all  others ;  yet,  he  now 
found  the  door  thrown  wide  open  for  his  own  egress  from 
an  "entangling  alliance;"  and  his  course  for  the  future 
was  as  free  as  that  of  an  uncaged  bird.  He  was  free 
even  to  place  his  heart  again  in  thraldom — a  thraldom  in 
which  he  would  delight  to  be  involved.  To  his  awakened 


THE    WAR    PATH.  369 

imagination,  gentle  eyes  shone  on  him  as  he  thought  of 
it,  and  cheeks  that  he  loved  to  look  upon  flushed  with 
pleasure,  as  he  should  relate  the  joyful  news  of  his  own 
freedom  to  choose. 

But  all  these  thoughts  passed  silently  in  his  breast  as 
he  went  along.  With  respect  to  every  human  being, 
there  are  always  two  worlds;  the  one,  without,  which  he 
can  look  at  with  his  eyes,  and  hear  with  his  ears,  and 
appreciate  with  all  his  senses ;  the  other,  within  himself, 
which  he  can  only  contemplate  with  the  organs  of  his 
mind.  These  worlds  are  often  widely  dissimilar.  The 
outer  one  may  be  a  desert;  the  inner  one,  a  gorgeous 
palace,  glittering  with  gold  and  effulgent  with  light ;  the 
outer  one  may  be  the  wide,  open,  solitary  sea ;  the  inner 
one,  green  fields,  a  sunlit  cottage,  a  vine  clambering  up  a 
wall,  loaded  with  grapes,  or  redolent  of  the  perfume  of 
flowers.  So  it  was  with  Walcott.  He  was  traversing  a 
rude  forest  pathway;  bushes  and  half-decayed  stumps 
lined  the  track,  towering,  mossy  trees  hung  solemn  and 
shadowy  above  him;  there  was  rudeness,  savageness, 
primevalness  around  him.  Within  him — what  was  there? 
Glorious,  most  joyous,  and  most  hopeful  pictures.  How 
his  eye  lit  up !  It  was  not  the  cold  wild  scene  around 
him,  that  thus  kindled  his  glances;  it  was  the  moving 
panorama  of  thought  and  fancy — the  luster  of  the  spirit- 
world,  that  thus  shone  out  through  the  windows  of  his 
soul! 

At  the  cabin  of  Brigham,  they  found  all,  as  they  had 
anticipated,  in  much  alarm,  at  the  uncertain  fate  of 
Floyd.  And  yet,  all  did  not  feel  the  force  of  the  possible 
castastrophe  in  the  same  degree.  Marion  and  Lucile  wero 

certainly,  on  this  point,  not  alike.     Lucile,  constitution- 
24 


370  SARATOGA. 

ally  the  more  excitable,  the  more  mercurial,  the  more 
passionate,  was  now  the  calmer  of  the  two.  The  old  col 
onel  himself,  partly  from  real  interest,  and  partly  out  of 
sympathy  with  others,  seemed  quite  agitated  and  impa 
tient.  The  office  of  consoler  and  soother  fell  upon  Lu- 
cile.  Her  companion,  ordinarily  the  stately  and  dignified 
Marion,  in  deep  tribulation  and  tears,  was  now  walking 
to  and  fro,  asking  ceaseless  and  useless  questions,  and  ut 
tering  constant  and  unavailing  exclamations  of  alarm  and 
conjecture. 

No  sooner  did  Walcott  appear,  than  she  hastened  to 
him,  and  taking  his  hand,  said : 

"  Dearest  Arthur,  you  will  go  after  him  at  once,  will 
you  not?  You  and  he  were  once  dear  friends;  and  he 
thinks  so  much  of  you  yet ;  that  is — unless — but  while 
we  are  here  talking,  he  may  have  been  murdered,  or  he 
may  have  been  thrown  from  his  horse,  and  be  suffering  or 
dying  for  want  of  help  !  But,"  she  added,  her  eyes  swim 
ming  with  tears,  as  she  spoke,  "  we  will  try  and  hope  for 
better  things,  and  must  trust  to  you  to  see  where  he  is, 
and,  if  possible,  to  save  him.  Will  you  hasten,  dearest 
Arthur,  for  my  sake,  for  the  sake  of  your  old  friend, 
Marion?" 

"My  poor  girl !"  he  replied,  " did  you  think  it  neces 
sary  to  use  all  these  entreaties  to  induce  me  to  look  after 
the  fate  of  my  friend  ?  Be  of  good  heart,  Marion.  If 
he  is  alive,  I  will  soon  find  him ;  and  there  is  much  reason 
to  believe  that  nothing  serious  has  happened.  And  so, 
not  to  waste  any  more  time,  I  must  bid  you  a  hasty  adieu, 
and  go  on  my  mission.  Colonel  Belden,  I  hope  I  do  not 
meet  or  leave  you  entertaining  hard  opinions  of  me?" 

"  Who?    I  ?"  exclaimed  the  old  man  •  "  not  at  all,  my 


THE    WAR    PATH.  371 

dear  boy.  But  now  I  come  to  think  of  it ;  I  must  have 
been  overhasty  and  unreasonable  yesterday ;  and  I  ask 
your  pardon  for  it.  So,  my  dear  fellow,  let  us  now  see 
what  we  can  do  for  poor  Floyd." 

"With  all  my  heart,  sir,"  said  Walcott,  much  pleased 
at  the  turn  his  own  affairs  had  taken ;  "  and  for  that  pur 
pose,"  he  continued,  "I  must  at  once  mount,  and  be  off, 
as  I  perceive  that  Brigham  has  got  me  a  horse  in  readi 
ness.  He  will  act  as  sentinel  and  guard  here,  while  I 
am  away.  So  a  short  good-by  to  you  all !" 

In  those  days,  the  course  which  was  followed,  in  travel 
ing  between  Saratoga  and  Schuyler's,  was  not  the  same 
as  that  along  which  the  public  highway  at  present  ex 
tends.  The  latter,  pursuing  a  more  direct  line,  crosses  a 
portion  of  the  tract  of  low  and  marshy  ground,  commonly 
known  as  "  Bear  Swamp."  The  former,  on  the  contrary, 
made  a  considerable  circuit  to  the  northward,  so  as  to  fol 
low  the  margin  of  the  dry  and  rolling  upland.  Going  east 
ward,  the  low  meadows,  and  the  creek  which  led  into,  and 
through  them,  were  kept  at  some  distance  to  the  right. 
This  northerly  detour  commenced  about  two  miles  from 
the  springs. 

This  was  the  route  followed  by  Floyd  when  he  had  rid 
den  away  on  the  evening  before.  At  that  time  he  was 
laboring  under  no  small  degree  of  excitement,  as  may  be 
well  supposed.  His  feelings  had  been  cut  to  the  quick  ; 
and  he  felt  intensely  chagrined  at  the  turn  affairs  had 
taken.  Among  other  information,  rudely  communicated 
to  him  at  that  time  by  Colonel  Belden,  was  the  fact,  of 
which  he  had  been  previously  ignorant,  that  Marion  was, 
and  had  been  for  some  time  actually  affianced  to  Walcott ! 
The  news  itself  had  been  to  him  a  great  shock  ;  and  all 


372  SARATOGA. 

the  subsequent  ill-nature  and  rough  language  of  the  old 
man  had  passed  for  nothing  as  compared  with  that.  It 
drowned  all  minor  ideas.  Marion  engaged !  This  fact 
•was  more  than  all  else.  He  thus  needed  no  hint  to  hurry 
him  away.  The  impulse  was  already  powerful  enough. 
Floyd  was  an  honorable  man.  If  Marion  was  thus 
plighted  to  another,  he  would  do  no  act  to  break  the  tie, 
to  cause  it  to  be  regretted,  or  to  render  the  duties  it  im 
posed  either  irksome  or  less  pleasing.  So  he  had  nothing 
to  do  but  to  take  his  departure,  and  that  as  speedily  as 
possible. 

But  as  he  rode  away,  heedless  of  all  outward  objects, 
the  thought  would  obtrude  itself  upon  his  mind,  whether, 
after  all,  Marion  could  really  have  her  heart  interested  in 
the  engagement  which  had  been  formed?  If  so,  how 
could  he  satisfactorily  account  for  her  conduct  toward 
himself  ?  How  could  he  explain  the  blush  which  mantled 
her  cheek,  the  joy  which  shone  in  her  eye  at  his  own  ap 
proach  ?  the  trembling  of  her  hand  as  he  took  it  in  his  ? 
and  those  thousand  other  nameless  signs  of  an  interest 
deeper  than  that  of  fraternal  regard  ?  All  these  had  im 
pressed  themselves  deeply  upon  his  own  feelings  at  the 
moment ;  and  he  had  had  no  doubting  conviction  of  their 
import.  They  are  among  the  signs  which  those  deeply  con 
cerned  rarely  misapprehend ;  they  are  like  telegraphic  sig 
nals  which  send  their  meaning  across  the  deep  and  narrow 
gulf  which  separates  all  human  souls,  and  prove  that  an 
indissoluble  union  has  overspanned  the  chasm,  and  that 
there  is  thereafter  for  the  two  hearts  thus  united,  but  one 
earthly  fate ! 

No !  Marion  could  not  love  Walcott !  So  thought  and 
reasoned  Floyd.  He  was  not  suspicious.  His  mind  waa 


THE    WAR    PATH.  373 

free  from  the  little  mists  which  obscure  the  vision  of  the 
envious  and  the  jealous.  He  imagined  that  he  saw  with 
as  much  lucidness  as  if  glass  was  the  outer  wall  of  Mari 
on's  soul,  what  was  passing  within  it.  At  that  moment 
he  felt  that  each  warm  pulse  of  her  heart  beat  for  him — • 
for  himself  alone !  The  betrothal  was  then  a  mystery — 
a  mistake.  She  was  not  one  to  deceive.  She  would 
never  give  her  hand  to  one,  and  her  faith  and  affections 
to  another.  There  must  be  some  doubt  to  clear  up,  some 
mischance  to  correct.  But  whatever  it  was,  he  could  not 
help  thinking  that  there  was  still  some  hope  for  himself. 
By  degrees,  as  he  thus  dwelt  on  the  more  pleasing  aspect 
of  his  circumstances,  the  ill-humor  which  had  at  first  hur 
ried  him  away  with  so  much  violence,  subsided ;  and  the 
rapidity  of  his  progress  became  proportionately  lessened. 
The  horse,  from  proceeding  at  a  wild  gallop,  gradually 
diminished  his  pace,  till  he  had  dropped  into  a  steady 
walk. 

At  the  place  where  Floyd  was  now  riding,  the  road  or 
bridle-path  was  just  on  the  edge  of  the  solid  ground — • 
on  the  dividing-line,  so  to  speak,  between  that  and  the 
marsh.  It  was  shadowed  by  thick  trees,  over  the  roots 
of  which  the  horse  would  sometimes  stumble  as  he  passed 
along.  To  the  right,  lay  the  close  and  tangled  alder 
swamps,  impassable  for  horse,  and  almost  so  for  man. 
In  the  other  direction  the  forest  was  open,  though  from 
the  closeness  of  the  overhanging  boughs,  and  the  fullness 
of  the  foliage,  it  lay  in  sober  and  silent  shadow.  Its  as 
pect  was  peaceful  in  the  extreme. 

While  he  was  thus  wrapt  in  profound  revcry  upon  a 
subject,  which  to  one  of  his  age  always  possesses  an  inter 
est  moat  personal  and  absorbing,  he  did  not  observe  that 


374  SARATOGA. 

as  he  moved  slowly  along,  allowing  the  bridle  to  lay- 
loosely  on  the  horse's  neck,  a  dusky  form  would  now  and 
then  be  partly  visible  from  behind  some  tree  or  bush,  to 
the  left ;  or  that  the  tuft  of  a  scalp-lock  would  occasion 
ally  rise  from  behind  a  rock  or  fallen  log,  while  quick, 
fierce  and  threatening  eyes,  marked  his  progress,  and  fol 
lowed  his  course.  Occasionally  also,  like  gray  phantoms, 
fleet  forms  would  glide  forward  from  one  cover  to  another, 
coming  nearer  to  him  at  each  step  and  tending  toward  a 
point  in  the  road,  where  it  wound  around  a  small  knoll. 
Every  thing,  however,  passed  as  quietly  and  unnoticed  by 
the  rider,  as  if  those  objects,  generally  so  suspicious  in 
the  forest,  had  merely  formed  a  part  of  the  landscape,  or 
as  if  they  were  no  more  to  be  feared  than  timid  hares 
changing  their  hiding-places  in  the  dusk. 

When  he  reached  the  knoll,  and  just  as  he  lightly 
pulled  the  rein  to  change  his  direction  there,  the  form  of 
a  tall  and  fierce-looking  savage  sprang  up  in  his  path. 
The  frightened  horse  snorted,  and  reared  into  the  air. 
The  Indian  armed  apparently  with  nothing  more  than  his 
tomahawk  and  knife,  rushed  at  once  toward  the  animal's 
head,  with  the  evident  purpose  of  catching  the  bridle,  and 
thus  bringing  himself  to  close  quarters  with  the  rider. 
At  the  same  time  he  uttered  the  formidable  Indian  war- 
whoop,  which  was  immediately  answered  by  others  around, 
until  the  air  was  filled  with  the  frightful  din.  In  his 
purpose,  he  was  at  first,  however,  disappointed;  for  the 
horse  had  almost  instantly  been  reduced  to  subjection  and 
control  by  Floyd,  who  caused  him  to  make  a  lateral  spring 
so  as  to  swing  himself  beyond  the  reach  of  the  savage. 
In  an  instant  also  he  drew  from  his  holsters  a  horseman's 
pistol,  which  he  leveled  at  his  assailant  and  snapped ;  but 


THE    WAR    PATH.  375 

which,  owing  to  the  dampness  of  the  priming,  did  not  go  off. 
Finding  himself  disappointed  in  this,  and  seeing  his  ene 
mies  increasing  in  numbers  around  him,  he  at  once  rose 
in  his  stirrups,  and  with  his  whole  force,  hurled  the  use 
less  weapon  full  at  the  head  of  his  immediate  enemy.  It 
took  effect,  and  the  latter  was  felled  to  the  ground  by 
the  force  of  the  blow. 

Floyd  had  but  an  instant  to  consider.  Ahead  of  him 
were  several  others,  now  barring  his  way,  and  rapidly  ap 
proaching.  His  remaining  pistol  was  probably  as  useless 
as  the  one  he  had  thrown  away.  He  had  still  his  heavy 
dragoon's  cutlass,  this  he  immediately  drew,  and  turning 
his  horse's  head  suddenly  about,  spurred  forward  in  an 
attempt  to  effect  an  escape  in  that  direction.  He  had 
however  gone  but  a  few  rods  before  he  found  that  the  am 
bush  had  been  complete ;  for  before  him,  and  directly  in 
the  path,  were  several  of  his  enemies  bent  on  stopping  his 
progress  at  all  hazards.  Nevertheless,  he  drove  at  them 
at  full  speed,  now  well  aware  that  none  but  a  desperate 
remedy  could  save  him.  The  bridle  was  again  flung 
down,  while  with  his  left  hand  he  drew  forth  from  the 
holster  the  unused  pistol.  Like  its  mate  it  was  found 
useless  as  a  fire-arm.  The  powder  flashed  in  the  pan. 
Still  he  clubbed  the  refractory  weapon,  determined  if 
possible  to  make  it  serve  as  good  a  purpose  as  the  other. 
As  he  came  fearlessly  up  toward  the  group  of  savages 
drawn  up  across  the  path,  they  seemed  a  little  daunted  by 
the  impetuosity  of  his  approach ;  and  the  two  who  imme 
diately  confronted  him,  stepped  aside.  One  of  them  was 
stunned  and  overthrown  by  a  blow  from  the  pistol ;  and 
the  other  while  striking  with  his  ax  at  the  horse's  neck, 


3(76  SARATOGA. 

received  a  sword-cut  in  the  arm,  which  caused  him  at 
once  to  drop  the  weapon  and  run  howling  away. 

Floyd  began  to  entertain  hopes  of  escape.  He  cheered 
forward  his  horse,  now  as  excited  as  himself,  for  the  woods 
behind  and  around  him  still  rang  with  the  wild  cries  of 
the  pursuers.  No  shot  had  yet  been  fired.  He  had  in 
fact,  seen  no  guns  among  them.  Here  was  also  a  ground 
for  hope.  In  a  few  seconds  afterward,  however,  at  a  spot 
where  the  road  became  a  little  rough,  he  suddenly  felt  a 
hot,  painful  shock  in  the  flesh  of  his  right  arm.  His 
strength  seemed  paralyzed.  The  sword  fell  from  his  hand. 
A  sharp  arrow-head  had  pierced  the  muscle,  and  the  shaft 
still  hung  in  the  wound.  His  blood  was  flowing  over  its 
flinty  point,  and  dying  its  feathery  shaft.  He  also  heard 
other  messengers  of  death  of  a  like  nature,  rushing  past 
him.  His  position  was  most  critical;  and  at  each 
moment  he  expected  to  be  struck  to  the  heart.  In  case 
another  savage  should  be  found  in  his  path,  he  would  be 
powerless  to  assail  him  and  could  only  hope  to  ride  him 
down. 

While  in  this  very  crisis  between  hope  and  fear,  when 
a  few  seconds  would  place  him  beyond  the  danger  or  make 
him  its  victim,  at  a  point  where  the  ground  was  a  little 
soft,  another  athletic  Indian  sprang  from  the  bushes,  and 
endeavored  to  seize  the  horse  by  the  rein.  The  animal 
again  shied,  and  in  doing  so,  stumbled  over  some  pro 
jecting  roots,  and  in  his  speed,  came  near  falling  broad  on 
his  side.  As  it  was,  the  shock  was  so  sudden  that,  the  saddle 
turned  under  him,  and  Floyd  was  thrown  with  great  violence 
in  the  midst  of  the  path.  Unfortunately,  or  perhaps  for 
tunately,  his  head  struck  one  of  the  rough  roots,  and  de 
prived  him  of  immediate  consciousness.  The  frightened 


THE    WAR    PATH.  377 

horse  meanwhile  again  scrambled  up,  and  snorting  wildly, 
made  off  as  fast  as  his  legs  would  carry  him. 

As  the  young  man  lay  senseless  and  helpless  on  the 
ground  now  stained  with  his  blood,  his  immediate  assail 
ant  approached  with  the  apparent  purpose  of  making  sure 
work,  and  finishing  him.  His  knife  and  hatchet  were 
already  brandished  for  this  object,  when  his  hand  was 
stayed  by  another,  who  from  his  demeanor  and  his  dress, 
appeared  to  exercise  authority  among  them.  Thus  the 
young  man's  life  was  for  the  moment,  saved ;  but  if  one 
were  to  judge  from  the  looks  of  those  who  now  gathered 
around  him,  it  was  not  with  any  benevolent  purpose. 

The  chief,  for  such  he  was,  bore  marks  of  having  taken 
part  in  the  fray  ;  for  there  was  a  large  contusion  on  his 
face,  now  swollen  and  bloody,  which  added  much  to  the 
natural  ferocity  of  his  expression.  This  was  probably 
the  work  of  one  of  the  discarded  pistols.  Uttering  a  few 
words  in  his  native  tongue  to  his  followers,  he  pointed  to 
the  prostrate  but  still  living  form  of  their  prisoner.  They 
now,  as  if  in  obedience  to  the  command  which  they  re 
ceived,  lifted  him  up  and  bore  him  away,  following  the 
chief.  Their  course,  after  leading  up  the  creek  for  a  short 
distance,  crossed  it  as  well  as  the  low  swale  of  alders,  and 
came  out  upon  a  spot  already  somewhat  known  to  the 
reader. 

As  to  the  injured  man,  the  arrow  had  been  left  in  the 
wound  it  had  made,  and  the  pain  which  it  caused  aroused 
him,  at  last,  from  the  stunning  effects  of  his  fall.  It  was 
with  a  deep  sigh  of  anguish  that  he  at  length  opened  his 
eyes.  The  scene  around  him,  to  his  bewildered  faculties, 
was  new  and  strange.  It  was  some  time  before  he  could 
recollect  how  he  had  been  brought  to  his  present  condi- 


378  SARATOGA. 

tion.  The  truth,  however,  at  length  began  to  dawn  upon 
him,  and  he  became  aware  that  he  was  the  captive  of  hia 
late  assailants. 

Though  suffering  terribly  from  theunextracted  arrow,  he 
still  composed  himself  sufficiently  to  observe  what  was 
going  on  around  him.  Where  the  party  had  halted  there 
was  a  small  space  of  open  ground ;  and  here  he  was  set 
down.  As  he  recovered  the  use  of  his  senses  more  fully, 
his  suffering  became  more  acute,  and  he  could  not  help 
requesting  those  around  him  to  withdraw  the  arrow,  the 
pain  of  which  was  almost  intolerable  as  it  swung  in  the 
loose  opening  it  had  made,  and  caused  the  blood  to  flow 
copiously  from  it.  The  savages,  however,  only  laughed 
at  his  expressions  of  pain,  and  were  indifferent  to  his 
entreaties. 

Meanwhile,  they  conversed  but  little  among  themselves, 
and  that  in  their  own  dialect.  Floyd  endeavored  himself 
to  extract  the  arrow  from  the  wound,  but  found  the  task 
difficult.  It  could  not  be  drawn  backward  on  account  of 
the  roughness  of  the  flinty  head,  and  to  draw  it  forward 
was  to  pull  the  harsh  and  tantalising  quills  which  lined 
the  shaft  through  the  raw  and  quivering  flesh.  Either 
course  was  fraught  with  almost  unendurable  pain.  He 
tried  them  in  vain,  while  at  every  effort  and  grimace  which 
he  made,  his  tormenters  but  laughed  the  more.  They 
even  gathered  around  him,  as  if  to  enjoy  the  scene. 
Old,  grim,  and  solemn-featured  warriors  allowed  their 
rough  faces  to  betray  a  smile  at  the  sufferings  of  their 
captured  foe.  Floyd  now  and  then  could  distinguish  the 
word  "  Squaw"  uttered  by  them  in  a  tone  of  contempt. 
Already  nearly  maddened  with  pain,  he  became  furious  at 
the  sight  of  their  inhuman  cruelty,  and  at  the  thought 


THE    WAR    PATH.  379 

that  his  irrepressible  anguish  made  him  the  object  of  their 
derision.  In  a  sudden  paroxysm  he  seized  the  tormenting 
arrow  in  his  left  hand  and  attempted  to  break  it.  It  bent 
double  in  his  powerful  and  desperate  grasp,  but  the  tough 
hickory  would  not  break.  In  a  fury  he  then  bent  the 
stubborn  withe  to  his  mouth  and  actually  succeeded  in 
gnawing  it  off  with  his  teeth.  In  a  moment  more  it  was 
withdrawn  from  his  arm.  The  flint  head  he  flung,  in 
impotent  fury,  at  his  tormentors. 

While  he  had  been  thus  engaged  they  had  become 
silent.  His  strength  in  doubling  up  the  stout  walnut, 
and  his  resolution  in  biting  it  away,  at  last,  had  excited  in 
the  bosoms  of  those  who  surrounded  him,  a  feeling  very 
different  from  contempt. 

"There!"  exclaimed  the  young  man,  "you  damned 
gang  of  grinning  wolves,  take  that  for  your  amusement ! 
I'll  pay  you  off  with  hickory  applied  to  your  yelling 
throats  if  I  ever  get  free  from  you  again  !" 

They  did  not  seem  to  understand  him,  nor,  probably, 
would  they  have  cared  if  they  had.  They  made  no 
movement  except  what  was  necessary  to  keep  him  securely 
within  their  reach.  Meanwhile,  as  well  from  his  loss  of 
blood  as  from  extreme  suffering.  Floyd  began  to  feel  a 
little  reaction  after  his  sudden  excitement,  and  grew 
somewhat  faint.  He  was  compelled  to  sit  down,  feeling 
sick  and  dizzy.  His  hand  trembled  as  he  leaned  his  head 
upon  it,  and  he  almost  imagined  that  his  last  hour  had 
come. 

After  a  while,  however,  the  faintness  having  to  some 
degree  passed  over,  he  rose  up  and  contrived  to  walk 
down  to  the  brook,  whore,  in  the  cool  clear  water,  ho 
buthed  his  aching  and  now  swelling  arm,  and  slaked  the 


380  SARATOGA. 

thirst  caused  by  the  fever  of  his  wound.  In  these 
operations  he  was  not  impeded  but  was  merely  watched. 
Escape,  at  present,  was  out  of  the  question ;  and  he  felt 
that  any  attempt  at  it  would  be  worse  than  useless.  He, 
therefore,  after  a  while,  returned  to  the  place  where  the 
others  were  gathered,  and  being  in  less  pain  and  more 
composed,  had  a  better  opportunity  to  make  some  obser 
vations  as  to  the  numbers  and  character  of  his  captors. 

That  they  did  not  belong  to  the  neighborhood  he  was 
already  convinced ;  and,  on  a  more  careful  inspection,  he 
became  satisfied  that  they  were,  what  were  then  generally 
known  as  Canada  or  Huron  Indians,  a  race  almost  always 
hostile  to  those  of  the  district  which  they  were  now 
traversing.  This  supposition  accounted  for  their  attack 
on  himself.  A  white  man  was  always  an  enemy,  and 
most  especially  in  an  enemy's  country. 

At  a  short  distance  from  the  place  where  he  was  sitting, 
he  observed  a  group  of  the  older  men  of  the  party,  ap 
parently  engaged  in  deliberation.  Beyond  them,  and  a 
rod  or  so  higher  up  the  bank,  was  an  enormous  pine-tree 
which  attracted  his  attention,  not  only  from  its  size,  but 
from  the  circumstance  of  its  leaning  over  at  a  great 
inclination,  so  much  so  as  to  create  an  unpleasant  im 
pression  of  its  being  about  to  fall.  At  its  base  was  a 
thicket  so  close  as  to  be  impenetrable  to  the  eye. 

As  the  council  continued,  various  members  of  it,  from 
time  to  time,  pointed  toward  their  prisoner;  and  he 
rightly  enough  conjectured  that  he  himself  was  the  sub 
ject  of  their  deliberations.  His  suffering,  which  was 
lately  so  intense,  and  which  had  not  yet  entirely  abated, 
had  this  good  effect,  that  it  withdrew  his  mind  from  the 
contemplation  of  the  dangers  which,  probably,  awaited 


THE    WAR    PATH.  381 

him,  or,  at  least,  rendered  him  partially  indifferent  to 
them. 

But  it  was  not  long  before  the  little  conclave  closed  its 
ominous  session.  The  pipe,  which  seems  to  be  the  source 
from  which  all  savage  as  well  as  much  civilized  wis 
dom  is  derived,  had  only  twice  performed  the  circuit  of 
the  council  before  its  members  had,  apparently,  come  to  a 
conclusion,  and  broke  up. 

Soon  afterward,  a  few  of  the  younger  men,  approaching 
Floyd,  gave  him  to  understand  that  he  must  rise  and  fol 
low  them.  Knowing  the  folly  of  resistance,  he  complied, 
although  he  was  entirely  at  a  loss  as  to  what  it  meant. 
They  led  him  to  a  small  isolated  tree  a  few  paces  distant. 
The  sapling  was  not  larger  than  his  own  arm.  They 
speedily  hacked  it  off,  at  about  five  feet  from  the  ground, 
with  their  tomahawks.  While  some  were  engaged  in  this, 
others,  from  the  thick  marsh  close  by,  had  cut  long,  pliant 
twigs  of  willow,  which  they  bruised  and  twisted  till  they 
acquired  almost  the  flexibility  of  ropes.  Floyd  began  to 
have  some  unpleasant  anticipations  as  to  what  was  com 
ing.  The  truncated  tree  formed  a  stake  to  which  it  was 
obvious  enough  they  intended  to  lash  him.  What  further 
designs  they  might  have,  he  could  not,  of  course,  surmise, 
but,  evidently,  cruelty  would  be  their  prevailing  charac 
teristics.  The  spot  was  near  the  bottom  of  the  slope,  and 
around  the  sapling,  to  which  preparations  were  being  made 
to  fasten  him,  was  a  small  space  of  level  ground,  covered 
with  a  smooth  green  sod.  As  they  began  to  pass  the  withes 
and  some  strings  of  sinew  around  the  chest  of  the  poor 
young  man  he  looked  wistfully  but  vainly  about  him  to  see 
if  any  aid  was  at  hand,  or  if  the  least  chance  for  escape  was 
left  him.  Though  weak  and  faint,  he  would  not  have  hesi- 


382  SARATOGA. 

tated,  urged  as  he  was  by  extreme  desperation,  to  adopt 
any  means  of  relief,  however  doubtful  or  dangerous.  Not 
the  slightest  chance,  however,  seemed  to  occur ;  and  in  a 
few  seconds  he  was  securely  bound,  and  became  as  help 
less  as  an  ox  in  the  shambles.  His  back  was  toward  the 
stream,  so  that,  as  he  stood,  he  nearly  faced  the  hill. 
Almost  in  front  of  him,  therefore,  the  high,  overleaning 
pine-tree  before  mentioned,  lifted  its  ponderous  bulk. 

In  moments  of  extreme  peril,  or  of  strong  excitement, 
objects  of  unusual  appearance  are  apt  to  impress  them 
selves  upon  the  fancy,  and  to  make  a  permanent  lodgment 
upon  the  memory.  For  this  reason  the  attention  of 
Floyd  was  almost  unconsciously  turned  to  the  inclining 
pine,  though  his  thoughts  were  flying  far  and  wide  on  a 
thousand  other  subjects.  For  this  reason,  also,  for  years 
afterward,  did  the  recollection  of  that  striking  object  in 
the  wilderness  remain  vivid  and  clear  in  his  mind,  forming 
one  of  the  most  prominent  points  in  his  mental  picture  of 
the  dangers  which  that  day  beset  him. 

No  sooner  was  the  fastening  fully  completed  than  a 
circle  of  yelling  young  savages,  with  wild  outcries  and 
brandished  weapons,  began  to  dance  about  bun.  The 
little  conclave  of  senators  was  again  formed,  but  nearer  to 
the  place  of  sacrifice ;  and  while  some  were  engaged  in 
smoking,  others  had  begun  a  low,  guttural  chant,  which 
the  poor  victim  might  well  take  for  his  death-song.  He 
was  brave,  and,  although  he  felt  the  invincible  repug 
nance  to  death  which  all,  and  especially  the  young  and 
strong,  experience,  he  resolved  to  meet  his  fate,  whatever 
it  might  be,  with  the  courage  of  a  man ;  and  if  he  could 
not  die  like  a  stoic,  he  would,  at  least,  endeavor  to  die 
like  a  soldier. 


THE    WAR    PATH.  383 

But  as  yet,  no  further  violence  had  been  done  him. 
Once  or  twice  some  one  had  seized  him  by  the  hair ;  and 
with  discordant  yells,  had  swung  a  knife  or  ax  with 
murderous  import  before  his  face.  To  produce  fear  and 
mortal  apprehension,  was  among  the  luxuries  of  their  sav 
age  executions.  Momentarily  he  expected  to  feel  the  fatal 
blow  descending  upon  his  unprotected  head.  He  almost 
wished  it  might  be  soon,  so  that  the  horror  should  be 
ended.  It  was  not,  however,  with  any  reckless  feeling, 
that  such  a  wish  came  into  his  mind.  On  the  contrary, 
in  that  extreme  hour,  his  heart  felt  oppressed  with  pray 
erful  longings  and  unuttered  entreaties  to  heaven.  If 
death  must  come,  he  only  hoped  its  agonies  might  be 
short.  Around  him  the  band  of  exulting  murderers 
now  circled  in  their  fantastic  dance,  more  rapidly  and 
wildly  than  ever.  Some  even,  with  playful  malice,  to 
augment  his  fears,  hurled  their  hatchets  at  the  tree  to 
which  he  was  tied ;  they  would  often  graze  near  him,  and 
often  strike  into  the  quivering  sapling.  Others,  again, 
with  mocking  menaces,  would  stand  before  him,  and  with 
fixed  aim,  and  a  steady  sweep  of  the  arm,  threaten  to 
send  their  axes  into  his  body,  as  they  had  sent  them  into 
the  tree.  The  torture  for  the  poor  young  man  was  ex 
treme.  In  spite  of  himself,  cold  drops  of  perspiration 
would  gather  upon  his  forehead. 

But  this  could  not  long  continue.  In  the  midst  of  the 
scene,  at  length  there  came  a  lull,  as  one  of  his  most 
powerful  tormentors  approached  him,  seeming  to  be  de 
tailed  for  some  special  duty.  Amid  profound  silence  he 
took  his  position  a  few  paces  in  front  of  the  prisoner, 
holding  a  heavy  tomahawk  in  his  hand.  This  done,  the 
chant  of  death  was  again  resumed ;  to  which  the  selected 


384  SARATOGA. 

executioner  began  a  sort  of  solemn,  solitary  dance,  but 
without  materially  changing  his  position.  The  object 
seemed  to  be  to  fix  the  attention  and  to  attract  the  gaze 
of  the  victim  before  the  fatal  blow  should  be  struck ;  and 
in  spite  of  all  he  could  do,  Floyd  soon  felt  his  looks  drawn 
by  a  kind  of  fascination  in  the  required  direction. 

As  he  gazed,  another  object  suddenly  met  his  sight.  It 
was  the  gigantic  form  of  Wild  Jacob,  emerging  silently 
and  stealthily  from  the  bushes  at  the  base  of  the  over 
hanging  tree.  With  caution,  but  with  great  celerity, 
and  unseen  by  the  savages,  whose  attention  was  absorbed 
by  the  interest  of  the  expected  execution,  he  stole  for 
ward,  bearing  in  his  hand  an  enormous  bludgeon.  Floyd 
had  never  before  seen  him,  and  at  first  almost  fancied  him 
to  be  a  creature  of  his  own  imagination,  or  some  monster 
of  the  woods,  thus  strangely  risen  from  their  recesses.  His 
eyes  remained  fixed  upon  the  fantastic  figure,  partly  in 
expectant  curiosity,  and  partly  in  the  distraction  caused 
by  the  apprehension  of  immediate  death. 

What  it  might  portend,  was  of  course  a  mystery ;  and 
before  the  young  man  even  acquired  a  definite  impression 
of  the  circumstance,  a  change  came  over  all  around  him ; 
for  with  the  scream  of  an  infuriated  demon,  the  wild-man 
suddenly  burst  through  the  chanting  circle  of  the  old 
men,  scattering  them  to  the  right  and  left,  while  with  one 
sweep  of  his  heavy  club  he  struck  to  the  ground  the  sav 
age  who  so  immediately  threatened  the  life  of  Floyd.  In 
less  time  than  it  takes  to  describe  it,  the  others  with  shouts 
of  terror,  were  scattered  like  chaff  before  their  insane 
pursuer ;  and  although  many  were  knocked  over  in  the 
first  few  seconds,  the  whole  gang  soon  managed  to  scramble 
up  and  disappear,  with  the  exception  of  the  one  who 


THE    WAR    PATH.  385 

had  been   first  struck,  and  who  had  fallen  to  rise  no 
mare. 

The  whole  seemed  to  be  but  the  work  of  a  moment. 
The  scene  almost  magically  changed ;  and  Floyd,  before 
ne  was  quite  able  to  comprehend  how,  found  his  fetters  cut 
loose,  and  himself  at  liberty ;  but  so  great  was  the  reaction, 
that  in  his  exhausted  condition,  he  could  not  move  from  the 
spot.  He  endeavored  to  look  around  in  order  to  thank  his 
strange  deliverer,  but  his  tongue  seemed  as  if  glued  to  his 
jaws  and  refused  utterance ;  he  endeavored  to  walk,  but  his 
limbs  were  powerless  and  could  not  perform  their  office ; 
and  meanwhile  a  dizzy  sense  of  weakness  came  over  him, 
and  he  fell  fainting  to  the  ground. 

The  ignorant  are  always  superstitious,  and  the  Ameri 
can  savages  were  no  exception  to  the  rule.  By  all  their 
customs,  teachings  and  traditions,  as  we  have  several  times 
before  had  occasion  to  observe,  they  were  led  to  consider 
a  person  either  of  a  weak,  or  of  a  disordered  intellect,  as 
one  to  be  looked  upon  with  awe,  if  not  with  fear.  He 
was  supposed  to  hold  communion  with  beings  of  the  land 
of  spirits ;  and  in  some  instances  it  was  imagined  that 
they  invested  him  with  supernatural  powers,  or  came  to 
his  aid  in  moments  of  difficulty — fighting  his  battles,  like 
unseen  legions  of  angels. 

Every  thing,  therefore,  in  the  appearance  of  Jacob,  as 
he  suddenly  came  down  upon  the  assemblage  of  Hurons, 
had  been  calculated  to  inspire  them  with  fear.  His  ter 
rific  outcries,  his  enormous  strength,  and  miraculous  ac 
tivity,  combined  with  their  superstitions,  were  too  much 
for  the  coolest  heads  and  stoutest  hearts  among  them. 
Thus  it  was  that  they  gave  way  so  suddenly  before  him, 
and  vanished  like  a  mist  before  a  strong  wind. 

17 


SARATOGA. 

As  the  last  of  the  dusky  fugitives  disappeared  from  th« 
scene,  the  momentary  silence  of  the  forest  was  broken  by 
a  strange  and  uncouth  noise.  The  madman  had  flung 
himself  down  at  full  length  upon  the  summit  of  a  gray 
rock  that  commanded  a  view  of  the  scene  of  his  late  ex 
ploit,  and  rolled  from  side  to  side  as  if  convulsed  with 
merriment  at  the  mischief  which  he  thought  he  had  occa 
sioned.  He  seemed  to  consider  this  his  crowning  exploit, 
and  his  laughter  was  louder  and  harsher  than  ever. 

Floyd  still  lay  pale  and  motionless  upon  the  grass  where 
ne  had  fallen.  Not  far  from  him  rested  the  body  of  the 
savage  who  had  been  brained  in  the  madman's  first  onset. 
He,  too,  was  pale  ;  but  mingled  with  the  dusky  tint  of 
his  features,  was  the  livid  hue  of  death.  Clotted  blood 
covered  his  scalp,  and  in  congealed,  purple  drops,  stood 
on  his  forehead  and  his  cheeks.  In  his  hand  was  still 
clutched  the  threatening  ax.  An  expression  of  cruelty 
still  sat  upon  his  countenance.  It  was  the  latest  emotion 
which  had  passed  over  it,  and  its  traces  were  thus  left  be 
hind,  fixed  there  until  the  dissolving  hand  of  decay  should 
turn  all  to  dust  and  obliterate  alike  the  mold  of  the  ab 
sent  soul,  and  the  moral  depicted  upon  it. 

After  a  short  time  Jacob  left  the  rock  where  he  had 
gone  to  give  vent  to  his  merriment,  and  to  watch  the 
retreat  of  his  discomfitted  enemies,  and  returned  to  the 
spot  where  the  two  bodies  still  lay.  He  examined  each 
of  them.  But  there  was  a  language  in  the  appalling 
image  of  dissolution  which  became  intelligible  even  to  his 
unsettled  mind.  It  spoke,  not  directly  and  plainly  to  his 
understanding,  but  indirectly  and  confusedly  to  his  whole 
being,  and  affected  him,  as  it  will  affect  the  unthinking 
animal,  through  his  instincts,  and  by  a  sort  of  electrical 


THE    WAR    PATH.  387 

agency  through  all  his  senses,  and  through  every  nerve 
and  fiber  of  his  frame.  Death  is  a  disturbance  and  a 
shock  to  all  animated  nature.  The  fiery  horse  that  would 
trample  unhesitatingly  upon  a  living  man,  will  start  and 
turn  aside  with  instinctive  fear  from  his  lifeless  remains. 
So  it  was  with  Jacob.  No  sooner  had  he  bent  over  the 
prostrate  Indian  than,  with  signs  of  alarm,  he  recoiled  from 
the  corpse,  though  his  head  was  still  turned,  and  his  eyes 
were  bent  upon  it.  Fear  took  possession  of  him — whitened 
his  lips,  enlarged  his  wild,  wide-open  eyes,  and  shook  his 
iron  muscles,  as  the  wind  will  sjjiake  a  slender  reed. 

With  Floyd,  however,  it  was  different.  Though  he 
was  still  in  a  swoon,  and,  to  a  careless  observer,  as  lifeless 
as  the  other,  the  more  acute  instincts  of  Jacob  at  once 
discerned  that  he  was  not  dead.  Notwithstanding  the 
destructive  tendencies  of  this  mindless  creature  he  acted 
according  to  no  rule,  and  his  course  could  never  be  con 
jectured  in  advance.  Accordingly,  through  some  inex 
plicable  freak,  he  now  lifted  up  the  body,  and  with  many 
tokens  of  tenderness  and  care,  bore  it  up  the  bank.  Part 
ing  the  bushes  he  deposited  it  in  the  secret  hut  of  boughs 
already  described  and  known  to  the  reader.  This  done,  he 
turned  and  left  the  place  in  silence,  though  the  vagrant 
thoughts  which  flitted  over  the  desert  of  his  mind  seemed 
fb  find  expression  in  a  continual  whispering,  which  moved 
his  lips  indeed,  but  which,  to  one  not  close  to  him,  was 
quite  inaudible.  After  getting  in  the  open  space  he  again 
bent  his  looks,  with  many  signs  of  fear,  toward  tho 
spot  where  the  dead  Indian  lay,  and  cautiously  avoiding 
it,  and  turning  stealthily  up  the  bank,  he  soon  leaped 
away  with  his  usual  precipitation,  and  disappeared  amid 
the  gathering  shadows  of  evening. 


888  SARATOGA. 

When  Floyd  returned  to  his  senses  he  found  himself 
alone  and  in  darkness.  By  a  determined  effort  he  was,  at 
length,  able  to  recall  to  his  recollection  the  events  that  had 
happened  up  to  the  time  when  Jacob  had  so  suddenly 
made  his  appearance.  But  beyond  that  all  was  darkness 
in  his  memory,  as  complete  as  that  which  now  met  his 
outward  vision. 

After  a  brief  interval  he  rose  up  to  grope  about ;  and, 
by  dint  of  searching,  he  finally  succeeded  in  detecting  a 
place  of  egress  from  his  leafy  prison,  and  in  emerging  into 
the  open  air.  As  he  did  so,  the  night  wind  felt  chilly  to 
his  fevered  frame,  and  he  shuddered  as  its  first  breath 
blew  moist  and  cold  upon  him. 

Stepping  a  few  paces  down  the  slope,  Floyd,  by  the  aid 
of  star-light,  was  soon  enabled  to  discover  the  stake  to 
which  he  had  lately  been  bound.  The  train  of  recollec 
tions  which  the  sight  of  this  evoked,  well-nigh  made  his 
memory  of  the  recent  events  complete.  He  knew  himself 
to  be  still  near  the  scene  of  his  late  perils,  and  found  that 
he  was  now  apparently  safe,  though  alone  and  faint  from 
Buffering  and  loss  of  blood.  Some  friendly  arm  it  must 
have  been  that  had  thus  interfered  to  effect  his  deliver 
ance,  and  to  deposit  him  in  the  place  of  seclusion  and  re 
pose  in  which  he  had  awakened.  Turning  back,  he  again 
stood  at  the  base  of  the  leaning  tree,  and  while  there  a  low 
sound  caught  his  attentive  ear.  It  proceeded  from  some 
place  near  that  which  he  had  lately  left,  where  he  had 
come  so  near  being  offered  up  as  a  sacrifice.  It  seemed 
to  be  something  like  the  noise  made  by  a  man  or  animal 
walking  cautiously  over  the  leaves.  He  did  not  dare  to 
move,  or  to  make  any  sound,  lest  it  might  be  some  of  his 
late  enemies  returned  to  reconnoiter.  Meanwhile,  the 


THE    WAR    PATH.  389 

character  of  the  sound  changed ;  though  still  muffled  and 
low,  it  appeared  more  like  the  tramp  of  several  persona 
than  of  one.  Soon  after  it  seemed  gradually  to  recede 
and  to  become  less  and  less  distinguishable.  Then  again 
it  ceased  altogether  ;  and  in  the  place  of  it  a  low,  wailing 
chant,  as  of  many  voices,  disturbed  the  solemnity  of  the 
night.  To  Floyd  all  this  was  quite  inexplicable.  He 
knew  not  that  his  late  persecutors  had  thus,  in  stealth, 
and  under  cover  of  the  night,  returned  to  bear  off  the 
body  of  their  slain  comrade. 

After  this  all  soon  became  silent  again,  save  the  usual 
noises  of  the  forest — as  much  to  be  expected  as  the  roar 
of  the  surf  upon  the  sea-coast — and,  after  many  painful 
reflections  upon  his  own  situation,  the  young  man  thought 
he  could  do  no  better  than  avail  himself  of  the  shelter  he 
had  at  hand,  and  wait  the  return  of  morning. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

FATE     OF     THE     LUNATIC. 

WE  must  now  again  call  attention  to  the  proceedings 
of  other  parties  connected  with  our  story.  We  will,  for  a 
brief  space,  follow  the  course  of  Walcott.  His  old  expe 
rience  and  especially  his  late  practice,  had  made  him 
familiar  with  the  signs  of  the  woods  ;  and,  when  there,  had 
imparted  to  him  something  of  the  sharpness  and  sagacity 
of  the  aborigines  in  following  a  trail.  As  he  went  down 
the  road,  therefore,  which  led  eastward  toward  Schuyler's, 
his  eyes  were  constantly  bent  upon  the  ground,  where  he 
easily  traced  signs  of  Floyd's  passage.  This  continued  to 
be  the  case  until  he  came  as  far  as  the  knoll,  where  the 
attack  had,  in  reality,  commenced.  There  the  sudden 
cessation  of  the  horse's  foot-prints,  and  the  signs  of 
violent  and  rapid  leaping  and  turning,  were  plainly  visible. 
It  was  there,  then,  that  Walcott  began  to  examine  every 
thing  with  the  greatest  care  ;  and  in  order  to  prevent  any 
mistake,  he  dismounted  and  went  forward  on  the  road  to 
see  if,  by  any  chance,  the  footsteps  could  be  found  any 
where  beyond.  On  this  point  he  was  soon  satisfied,  and 
with  a  little  diligence,  after  returning,  he  soon  discovered 
evidence  of  the  horse's  actually  turning  back,  and  that, 
apparently,  at  a  rapid  pace.  He  also  marked  the  spot 


FATB    OF    THE    LUNATIC.  391 

*  x         < 

where  the  last  melde  had  taken  place,  and  observed  that 
some  heavy  object  must  there  have  fallen  to  the  ground, 
which  was,  in  various  places,  stained  with  bloody  dis 
coloration. 

So  far  all  was  plain,  but  being  unaccustomed  to  follow  the 
slight  marks  which  the  Indians  in  their  stealth  and  cau 
tion,  generally  left  behind  them,  he  was  thrown  out  and 
was  at  fault,  at  the  spot  where  the  party  had  diverged 
from  the  path,  and  turned  to  carry  their  prisoner  to  the 
south  bank  of  the  creek.  While  he  was  here  busily  en 
gaged  in  looking  for  the  lost  trail,  and  scanning  the  ground 
and  even  the  borders  and  bed  of  the  little  stream,  he  heard 
a  familiar  voice  calling : 

"Halloo  there!  Walcott!  what  are  you  looking  for? 
Lost  any  money?" 

Walcott  started  with  surprise  and  pleasure ;  and  as  he 
looked  up,  he  saw,  a  few  rods  from  him,  and  coming  down 
the  slope,  the  figure  of  Floyd  himself. 

"No,  Dick,"  answered  Walcott,  "but  somebody  else 
thought  she  had  lost  what  was  more  precious  to  her  than 
money,  and  she  sent  me  to  look  for  it" 

"  Well,"  said  Dick,  laughing,  "  but  yoti  did  n't  expect 
to  find  it  in  the  creek  did  you?" 

"  I  expect  to  see  it  there  in  a  moment,"  answered  Wal 
cott,  "  and  that  as  soon  as  you  attempt  to  cross  over.  But 
my  dear  fellow,  what  does  all  this  mean  ?  '  Your  arm  tied 
up,  clothes  bloody  and  torn !  You  have  n't  been  so  fool 
ish  as  to  tumble  off  your  horse,  have  you?" 

" Something  like  that,  I  believe,"  said  Floyd,  "but  I 
can't  say  certainly  whether  I  foil  off  or  was  knocked  off." 

"Knocked  off?"  asked  Walcott;  "pray  who  would 
knock  you  off?  But  tell  me  all  about  it  at  once." 


392  SARATOGA. 

• 

"But,"  said  Floyd,  "the  story  will  keep  for  a  little 
while.  Besides,  it's  a  long  one  ;  and  to  own  the  truth,  I 
am  at  this  moment  far  from  comfortable.  This  con 
founded  arm  of  mine  gives  me  a  good  deal  of  trouble,  and 
I  would  like  as  soon  as  possible,  to  get  where  it  can  be 
dressed." 

"In  that  case,"  said  Walcott,  "it's  lucky  I  brought 
along  a  nag  strong  enough  to  carry  us  both  back  ;  for  you 
don't  look  as  if  you  could  manage  to  get  along  very  rap 
idly  alone.  So  let  us  mount  and  be  off,  and  you  can  tell 
me  your  story  as  we  return." 

So  saying,  the  two  young  men  after  a  little  ado,  con 
trived  to  place  themselves  on  the  back  of  the  horse,  and 
then  started  for  the  house  of  Brigham.  During  their 
journey  Floyd  gave  a  brief  detail  of  the  events  which  had 
befallen  him  since  leaving  the  spring  on  the  night  before. 
Walcott  was  greatly  surprised  that  any  violence  should 
have  been  committed  by  the  savages,  as  all  who  were  sup 
posed  to  be  in  the  neighborhood  made  professions  of  friend 
ship  and  good-will  to  the  whites. 

"As  for  that,"  said  Floyd,  when  reminded  of  the  cir 
cumstance,  "  I  do  not  think  that  this  gang  belonged  to 
this  vicinity  at  all.  A  good  many  things  induced  me  to 
suppose  it  was  a  marauding  party  of  Hurons." 

"  Hurons !"  exclaimed  Walcott ;  "  then  that  accounts  for 
Catfoot's  leaving  the  village  at  the  head  of  a  war-party 
this  morning  ;  and  I  venture  to  say,  if  your  Canadian  red 
skins  do  not  look  to  it,  they  will  find  some  unpleasant  em 
barrassment  on  their  way  back  home." 

"  Then  you  think,"  said  Floyd,  slightly  changing  the 
course  of  the  conversation,  "  that  it  was  the  man  you  call 
Wild  Jacob  who  gave  them  such  a  fright?" 


FATE    OF    THE    LUNATIC.  393 

"Unquestionably  it  was  he,"  replied  Walcott,  "for 
your  description  proves  it  beyond  a  doubt.  Besides  there 
is  no  other  person  in  this  part  of  the  country  who  could 
perform  such  a  feat." 

"  What  I  marvel  at  most,"  said  Floyd,  "judging  of 
the  man  by  the  reputation  he  bears,  is,  that  he  has  been 
found  doing  a  good  action,  in  spite  of  all  the  horrors  that 
are  related  of  him." 

"  As  for  that,"  said  Walcott,  "  it  is  just  as  the  humor 
strikes  him.  Had  he  met  you  alone  he  might  have  en 
deavored  to  perform  the  office  which  the  Hurons  sought  to 
accomplish  on  you.  It  seems  to  satisfy  him  if  he  can  find 
any  object  on  which  to  spend  his  superabundant  fury  and 
strength.  But  did  he  not  kill  any  of  them,  think  you?" 

"  One,  I  thought,  must  surely  be  dead;  but  this  morn 
ing  I  could  find  nothing  of  him.  The  wolves  could  not, 
certainly,  so  soon  have  eaten  him  entirely  up." 

"Not  likely;  "  said  Walcott,  "but  the  simple  expla 
nation  of  it  is  that  his  companions  have  probably  returned 
and  borne  away  the  body  during  the  darkness." 

Thus  conversing  and  entertaining,  among  other  things, 
no  little  apprehension  at  the  idea  that  a  band  of  hostile 
savages  had  been,  and  were  still  so  near  to  those  in  whom 
each  of  them  now  felt  so  deep  an  interest,  they  made 
what  haste  they  could  to  get  back  to  the  cabin.  Mean 
while,  Floyd's  arm  had  become  extremely  painful ;  and 
although  he  made  no  complaint,  the  motion  of  the  horse 
was  a  perpetual  torture  to  him,  and  sent  the  cold  drops 
of  perspiration  to  his  forehead. 

But  we  will  forbear  any  endeavors  to  depict  the  joy 
which  was  felt  and  expressed  at  his  safety,  when  at  last 
he  dismounted  at  the  door  of  the  house.  Marion,  though 


SARATOGA. 

alarmed  and  anxious  on  account  of  his  wound,  was  still 
radiant,  through  her  tears,  with  pleasure  and  gratitude 
that  nothing  fatal  had  happened. 

Although  Colonel  Belden  had  designed  to  remove  from 
the  Spring,  and  return  to  Ballston  without  further  material 
delay,  the  accident  which  had  hefallen  Floyd,  and  the  new 
relations  in  which  he  was  likely  to  stand  to  him,  necessa 
rily  produced  a  change  in  the  arrangements.  The  wound 
was  not  dangerous,  but  the  arm,  nevertheless,  became  much 
swollen,  and  was  exceedingly  painful.  Apprehensions 
were  entertained  that  it  might  terminate  in  fever ;  but 
the  great  loss  of  blood  which  the  young  man  had  sus 
tained,  probably  saved  him  from  it.  Indian  Joe,  also,  was 
again  the  physician ;  and  his  remedies,  whether  beneficial 
or  not,  were  used,  and  the  arm  by  degrees  got  better. 

In  the  mean  time,  several  days  elapsed,  during  which 
the  movements  of  our  principal  personages  were  somewhat 
restricted,  owing,  not  only  to  fear  of  their  old  enemy, 
Jacob,  but  of  their  new  and  more  dangerous  neighbors, 
the  Hurons.  Walcott,  however,  was  but  little  restrained 
by  the  one  consideration  or  by  the  other.  Of  Jacob  he, 
of  course,  entertained  no  apprehensions  whatever,  con 
sidering  the  influence  which  he  had  been  hitherto  able  to 
exercise  over  him ;  and  as  to  the  hostile  Indians,  he  felt 
Btrong  confidence  that  the  movements  of  Catfoot  would 
soon  send  them  skulking  back  to  their  distant  retreats  in 
the  great  northern  forests.  So  he  hunted,  and  fished, 
and  rambled  about  as  usual.  In  his  shorter  strolls,  how 
ever,  he  was  now  sometimes  accompanied  by  another.  It 
will,  perhaps,  require  no  great  stretch  of  the  imagination 
for  the  reader  to  divine  who  this  companion  was. 

During  this  interval,  on  a  fine  morning,  at  an  hour 


FATE    OF    THE    LUNATIC.  395 

when  the  summer  dew  had  just  risen  from  the  grass  and 
the  leaves — at  the  balmiest,  and  most  beautiful,  and  most 
exhilarating  period  of  the  day,  the  two  young  people  had 
strayed  away  a  longer  distance  than  usual  from  the  cabin. 
The  place  at  which  they  found  themselves  was  near  the 
spot  where  Walcott  was  first  introduced  to  the  notice  of 
the  reader.  That  spot,  it  will  be  recollected,  was  on  the 
sandy  level,  or  plateau,  eastward  of  the  little  marsh,  near 
the  westerly  margin  of  which  Congress  Spring  was  sub 
sequently  discovered.  The  bank  which  here  descended 
from  the  upper  level  toward  the  swamp,  was  covered  with 
fern  and  wild-flowers,  so  fresh  and  blooming  that  their 
perfume  could  be  perceived  for  some  distance  around. 
On  this  slope,  and  a  few  feet  below  its  upper  margin, 
Walcott  might,  at  this  time,  have  been  seen,  as  with  care 
less  leisure  he  culled,  from  time  to  time,  the  small,  fresh 
blossoms  that  grew  in  wild  profusion  around  him.  Still 
further  down  the  steep  bank  his  companion,  in  a  freak  of 
adventure,  and  in  the  exuberance  of  her  happpiness  had 
clambered,  in  order  to  find  buds  of  rarer  hue  and  finer 
perfume  than  those  which  grew  above.  At  that  time 
each  had  no  thought  except  for  the  other,  and  a  hopeful 
calm,  as  peaceful  as  that  of  all  nature  around  them, 
reigned  in  their  hearts. 

'But,  here  again,  we  are  compelled,  with  regret,  to  in 
troduce  an  unpleasant  change  in  this  pleasing  picture. 

It  so  happened  that  Jacob,  the  lunatic,  in  the  perti 
nacious  constancy  of  his  caprices,  had  still  lingered  in  the 
neighborhood.  No  fixed  designs  restrained  him;  but 
habit,  which  rules  with  animals  as  well  as  with  men,  had 
operated  upon  his  neutral  nature.  On  the  morning  in 
question  it  was  by  chance  that  he  found  himself  near  the 


896  SARATOGA. 

bank  where  Walcott  and  Lucile  were  standing.  No 
sooner  did  his  eye  light  upon  them  than  a  sudden  train 
of  recollection  seemed  to  be  fired  within  him.  Almost 
immediately  he  set  himself  to  watch  their  movements,  and 
to  steal  closer  upon  them ;  and  as  his  look  fell  on  the 
young  man,  his  usual  malicious  smile  disappeared,  but  in 
the  place  of  it  was  a  scowl  of  timid  but  murderous  malig 
nancy.  With  the  stillness  of  a  snow-flake  he  crept  nearer 
and  nearer.  His  usual  weapon,  the  terrific  club,  was  still 
in  his  hands.  By  dint  of  patient  watching  he  soon  suc 
ceeded  in  reaching,  unseen,  the  edge  of  the  declivity  just 
above  where  Walcott  stood.  It  was  just  then  that  the 
young  man  was  facing  his  fair  companion,  to  whom  some 
playful  words  were  being  addressed.  His  back  was  con 
sequently  turned  toward  the  danger  which  threatened 
him.  Lucile,  on  the  contrary,  laughing  as  she  replied, 
looked  up,  with  blushes  and  smiles,  like  shower  and  sun 
shine,  on  her  beautiful  face ;  but  as  she  did  so,  Walcott 
observed,  suddenly,  that  her  eye  became  fixed  and  staring, 
that  her  cheek  turned  pale  as  ashes,  and  that  a  faint  cry 
broke  from  her  parted  lips.  Meanwhile,  he  heard  a  slight 
rustling  behind  him.  He  turned,  but  before  he  could 
fully  discern  what  was  there,  a  heavy,  uncouth  object  fell 
to  the  ground  just  above  him,  while  the  woods  around 
simultaneously  resounded  to  the  sharp,  ringing  report  of 
a  rifle  !  The  lunatic  lay  dead  and  motionless  at  Walcott' s 
feet !  The  murderous  club  was  still  clenched  in  his  hands. 
In  a  moment  after,  Indian  Joe,  carrying  a  discharged 
gun,  coolly  and  unconcernedly  approached  the  spot.  His 
shot  had  taken  effect  just  as  the  club  had  been  raised,  with 
murderous  purpose,  over  the  young  man's  head.  That  was 
the  last  of  the  wild,  hopeless  wanderer,  "  Crazy  Jacob." 


CHAPTER    XXXIY. 

CONCLUSION. 

ON  the  eastern  bank  of  the  Hudson  river,  a  few  milea 
above  Spuyten  Duyvel  creek,  surrounded  by  a  belt  of  old 
trees,  may  now  be  found  a  small  field  or  inclosure,  in  the 
midst  of  which  is  a  hillock  commanding  an  extensive  view 
in  either  direction  up  and  down  the  river.  Upon  that 
knoll,  the  curious  may  find  a  few  blackened  stones  around 
the  margin  of  an  ancient  cellar,  besides  the  remnants  of  a 
chimney-stack  and  fire-place.  Within  it  are  tall  weeds ; 
and  vegetation  has  crept  over  every  spot  where  mold  has 
gathered,  thus  softening  or  hiding  the  ruin. 

Standing  near  that  spot,  at  this  time,  one  can  count,  of 
a  fair  summer  day,  when  a  fresh  wind  is  blowing,  perhaps 
two  hundred  vessels,  dotting  the  wide  expanse  of  the  stream, 
as  the  pale  wings  and  breasts  of  flocks  of  wild,  white 
pigeons  sometimes  speck  the  deep,  still  azure  of  a  vernal 
sky.  Vast  steamers,  like  floating  palaces,  every  few 
moments,  send  their  black  columns  of  smoke,  in  long 
curves,  into  the  glassy  atmosphere.  Underneath  the 
shore,  also,  every  hour  or  so,  the  rush  of  ponderous  rail 
way  trains  is  heard,  rumbling  like  earthquakes,  as  they 
burst  through  the  wind,  and  their  echoes  die  sullenly 
away  in  the  distance. 

Looking  inland  from  the  same  spot,  through  the  branches 


SARATOGA. 

of  the  open  trees,  and  rising  in  round  hemispherical  eleva 
tions  above  the  tree-tops,  one  sees  a  rolling  country  reced 
ing  and  growing  higher  as  it  recedes,  clothed  in  verdure, 
wrapped  in  ripe  harvests,  crowned  with  sumptuous  villas, 
and  glittering  and  glowing  in  all  the  beauty,  refine 
ment,  and  rural  pomp,  of  careful  culture  and  civilized 
wealth. 

The  scene  was  not  always  the  same.  In  1787,  a  few 
weeks  after  the  events  related  in  the  last  chapter,  the 
broad  river  with  its  magnificent  palissades,  the  high  hills, 
and  the  blue  distant  mountains,  were  indeed  the  same  as 
now;  but  on  the  bosom  of  the  water,  perhaps  not  more 
than  one  or  two  kzy  sail  could  be  seen  in  the  course  of  an 
entire  day.  The  stillness  was  never  disturbed  by  the 
echoes  of  the  loud-breathing  steamboat,  floating  by,  like 
a  panting  leviathan.  The  surrounding  country,  almost 
everywhere,  was  deeply  wrapt  in  a  mantle  of  green,  for 
the  forest  was  not  yet  shorn  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 
A  few  widely  scattered  country-seats,  lay  embowered  along 
the  shore,  and  only  indicated  their  positions  by  thin  lines 
of  smoke,  sent  up  like  beacons  from  the  clearings  where 
they  lay.  No  swift-winged  railway  train  startled  the 
fisherman,  as  he  hung  lazily  on  the  gray  rocks  which  pro 
jected  into  the  water.  Summer-houses,  also,  were  built 
out  from  the  shore,  like  sentry-boxes,  and  within  their 
cool  recesses,  the  drowsy  sojourner  could  hear  beneath 
him  the  gurgle  of  the  restless  tide,  and  from  the  window, 
watch  the  shining  backs  of  the  rolling  porpoises,  as  in 
countless  platoons,  they  filed,  in  solemn  order,  along  their 
watery  path. 

But  where  the  old  ruin,  the  blackened  stones,  the  half- 
filled  cellar,  the  decayed  chimney-stack  and  fallen  hearth 


CONCLUSION. 

are  now  faintly  traceable,  there  stood  a  capacious,  and, 
for  the  period,  a  stately  mansion.  Its  high  portico  facing 
the  river,  was  sustained  by  six  square  columns.  In  front 
lay  a  small  terrace  of  earth,  supported  by  masonry,  its 
area  filled  with  rose-bushes  and  other  flowering  shrubs, 
and  its  corners  ornamented  with  tall  vases  of  white  marble. 
From  this  portal,  a  wide  pathway  led  down  to  the  river- 
bank.  It  was  flagged  with  broad  flat  stones,  and  lined 
with  rows  of  box,  and  small  pines  and  mountain  ash. 
Past  the  doorway  itself,  also  swept  a  wide  carriage- 
track,  bordered  like  the  walk  with  shrubbery,  and  over 
spread  with  a  layer  of  finely-broken  slate.  The  lawn 
was  covered  with  a  carpet  of  bright  green  grass ;  and  a 
few  deer  could  now  and  then  be  seen  browsing  upon  the 
tender  buds  of  the  young  trees  or  bounding  lightly  across 
the  open  spaces. 

But  our  attention  is  now  particularly  drawn  to  what 
was  passing  within  the  mansion  itself.  On  both  sides  of 
the  wide  hall,  were  high,  broad  folding-doors  of  solid  ma 
hogany,  which  were  all  now  swung  back,  disclosing,  on 
either  hand,  lofty  and  capacious  parlors.  These  were 
decorated  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  times.  On  the 
southern  s:de  of  the  house,  the  sunlight  of  a  warm  fore 
noon  was  stealing  through  the  green  Venetian  blinds ; 
while  through  the  open  lattice-work  without,  the  soft 
south  wind  percolated,  laden  as  it  was,  with  the  sweet 
odor  of  the  honeysuckle,  which  climbed  the  outer  case 
ment.  The  place  was  altogether  charming.  It  was  for 
tunately  not  unoccupied. 

Several  groups  were  standing  or  sitting  in  various  parts 
of  the  saloon.  In  one  corner,  was  our  old  acquaintance 
Colonel  Bclden,  somewhat  more  carefully  dressed  than 


400  SARATOGA. 

when  we  last  saw  him  in  the  wilderness ;  while  his  long 
flowing  white  hair  hung  over  his  shoulders.  A  smile  of 
pleasure  and  of  courtesy,  illuminated  his  fine  face.  Be 
fore  him  stood  another  figure,  not  so  venerable  in  respect 
to  years,  but  more  so  in  respect  to  costume.  He  was 
dressed  in  the  imposing  robes  of  a  minister  of  the  English 
church,  which,  with  the  surplice  and  bands,  plainly  be 
trayed  his  vocation. 

The  two  stood  courteously  conversing,  while  each  held 
in  his  hand  a  still  untasted  glass  of  golden  wine 

But  whom  have  we  here,  on  the  other  side  of  the  apart 
ment  ?  She  is  so  richly  dressed — is  so  surrounded  with 
the  civilized  ornaments  and  appliances  of  the  lady,  that 
we  can  hardly  recognize  in  her  our  little  heroine  of  the 
forest,  the  spring,  and  the  cave.  And  yet  it  is  herself. 
By  her  side  stands  Walcott.  In  her  hand,  and  in  her 
hair,  are  small  clusters  of  flowers,  even  more  beautiful 
than  those  she  once  gathered  on  the  steep  borders  of  the 
alder-swamp,  now  the  "vale  of  statues"  at  Saratoga. 

But  there  is  still  another  group,  who  are  passing  out 
to  the  portico.  The  reader  can  well  imagine  of  whom  it 
is  composed.  He — for  the  two  were  now  man  and  wife — 
finds  himself  bound,  not  to  the  sacrificial  stake  to  be 
hooted  and  tortured  by  grinning  savages,  but  with  volun 
tary  ligaments  equally  strong,  to  a  gentle  and  beautiful 
being,  who  will  but  love  and  honor  him,  "  so  long  as  they 
both  shall  live." 


THE     END. 


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